Of Men and Horses
by FinalAvenue
Summary: A case brings Stella into the life of one young woman in need of help. Rated for language, some implied violence. Some Stella/Mac, Lindsay/Danny
1. Chapter 1

A/N- this is my first attempt at writing for these characters, so any helpful reviews much appreciated.

Of Horses and Men

The smell of manure greeted her nostrils as Detective Stella Bonasera stepped under the crime scene tape and into the dimly lit hallway of a stable, located within Central Park. Several curious equine heads hung over stall doors as Stella came to a halt beside her colleague Detective Mac Taylor outside one of the stalls. The pungent odour was already attached to her clothes and as far as smells went it sure beat burnt flesh but it still...smelled.

"Mac." Stella greeted as she set her kit at her feet, donning gloves and looking around. "Where's our DB?" she asked questioningly, as she pushed her distinctive curly locks off her shoulders. Getting right to the point he thought, Mac smiled as he waved and indicated into the sawdust-laden stall. His partner looked impeccably put together, as if she had not been called in 2 hours early for her shift after putting in a late night. Mac himself had only managed a couple hours rest himself. Stella looked down the aisle way, noting Detective Don Flack was talking to a young woman dressed in overalls and rubber boots, probably the caretaker.

"Meet David Forbes," Mac stated as they entered the stall to find a white male sprawled belly first on the ground. Surveying the scene before her, Stella noted no obvious cause of death. No large blood pool or blood spatter on the surrounding walls. Squatting down, Mac gently turns him on his side causing Stella to lean over his shoulder to look," As you can see, most probable cause of death is strangulation." Large bruises around the man's trachea resembling finger marks were obvious. "He still has his wallet, money and jewellery in place so not a robbery."

"Who found him?" Stella asked, as Mac returned the man to his former position and stood up, walking to the aisle way. He indicated the rattled looking young woman still talking to Flack. "Jenny Logan, the lead stable hand. She heard a commotion among the horses and came down to investigate. She found our vic and called 911," Mac stated, as Flack finished and walked up to the two detectives.

"What's the word?" Stella asks, as he stops in front of them, flapping his notebook on his hand a couple times before shrugging.

"Jenny says once she heard the commotion she came down right away, finding our vic. Her apartment is above the stable but says she was sleeping and did not hear anything until the horses started making a ruckus. Says that the vic owns the horse that was in the stall and comes regularly every three days to ride. She never saw anyone else leaving the premises," the detective states as he rubs his hand through his hair tiredly. Mac notices he looks slightly worse for wear. "The owner that runs this stable is Ron Kilner, he has been notified and will be in-- momentarily," Don states, making quotation marks with his fingers.

"He's obviously concerned," Mac, states shaking his head. He was continually surprised by peoples lack of worry over a dead body discovered within their property. The younger detective simply shakes his head in return- people were a mystery.

"You okay, hard night?" Mac asks, Don simply nods-no words needed. They all had them. Unfortunately, his had run into a 16-hour shift and his bed was beckoning him.

"Yeah, in fact there is another officer coming to take over. Have a good one," Flack states in leaving as he heads out to report off to the other officer.

"Right, so do you think the horse did it?" Stella asks with a slight smile, her lame joke an attempt to negate the fact they were both tired and running on little sleep. Mac returned her small smile.

"Somehow I don't think they will be cooperative," he details, looking to the several horses staring back at them down the aisle.

"Maybe a carrot?" Stella added, before walking back into the crime scene, a chuckle on her lips.


	2. Chapter 2

Lindsay Monroe arrived on scene to find Mac and she presumed Stella already present. Scolding herself for being the last one there, she silently cursed Danny who had been the main cause of her lateness. He had not been very helpful in making Lindsay's early morning departure go smoothly. She allowed herself a small smile thinking over the platitudes he had been spouting trying to get her to ignore her pager. In reality, both would not do such a thing, but he had certainly been having fun pretending.

"Lindsay," Mac greeted, as she stepped up to her boss, taking in her surroundings a wave of nostalgia swept through her. The sweet smell of manure and hay brought her mind back to cornfields and endless grassy fields; it was a smell of home. She was sure no other New Yorker would associate.

"Mac," she replied. "Where's Stella?" she asked, looking around for the crime scene. Indicating into the stall beside him, Lindsay followed his gesture to find Stella leaning down over a prone white male. "Oh," she said simply. Mac gave her a quick over brief of the situation so far and indicated where to begin working.

"You're processing the aisle way," he specified, "Stella's got our vic and I'm doing the exterior. The M.E. is on his way over," the former marine explained. Lindsay nodded, taking her camera out of its case then setting her kit on the floor.

"Got it," she replied, stepping past him as he left to start his own tasks. Lindsay looked down the stable, noting that for a barn-- the floor was clean. Occasional hay and sawdust meant that her job would be a little easier. Meticulously searching the ground, Lindsay slowly progressed down the aisle searching for anything out of the ordinary. Spotting a piece of crumbled up paper, the CSI picked it up with a gloved hand- it appeared to be the corner of a receipt and tucked it safely in an evidence envelope.

"Find anything interesting?" Stella asked, causing Lindsay to jump slightly at her voice. Besides the chatter outside and the horses, the barn was very quiet. Stella's lips curved up in a small smile as she put her hands up. "Didn't mean to scare ya," she stated.

"Yeah- no problem. Sorry," Lindsay answered, straightening up and looking back down the aisle, she had covered most of it by now. "I found a corner of a receipt, couple fibres but nothing overly exciting," she stated watching as Stella nodded. "I got prints off the latches of the stalls but I am assuming those will belong to the stable hand," Lindsay stated, sighing as she thought about cataloguing the prints off the all the door latches, ten in total.

"The vic isn't much better," the older woman confided, frowning as she looked up and down the aisle way. It seemed their DB was not going to be as straight forward as they would hope. "The M.E. is there now," she reported continuing her surveillance. "Have you seen that stable hand?" Stella asked, "Flack had been talking to her- had overalls and rubber boots on?"

"I haven't seen anyone since I got here Stel," Lindsay replied, looking down to the end of the aisle.

"Right," Stella said as she walked past Lindsay to check out the rest of the barn. "I need to process the horse," she offered in explanation, the younger woman now understanding. "I'll find her, finish what you're doing." Stella instructed as she noticed light coming from a room at the end of the hall.

Approaching carefully, the detective slowly entered into the doorway to find the stable hand elbow deep in a feedbag. "Hi," Stella greeted as the young woman looked up from her task. The woman simply nodded, Stella taking in her hard appearance. A large bruise surrounding her right eye, its color yellow and purple indicating it had occurred within the last several days. A small abrasion above her eyebrow indicated she had met something very hard. She eyed Stella wearily but the CSI felt no threat from her.

"My name is Stella, I'm one of the CSI's working the scene out there," Stella indicated. The young woman nodded and stood up, carefully withdrawing her left arm from the feedbag- almost tenderly as if it was sore. Wiping her gloved hands on her pants, she held her hand out to Stella.

"Jenny," she replied simply with a nervous smile. Stella took the offered hand, noting the strong grip Jenny held. "I take care of the horses for Ron," she indicated. Jenny stood around 5 foot 2 or 3 inches, making her shorter than Stella. Her build was hard to tell through her clothes but she surmised solid but not overweight. The girl obviously did some physical work looking after the animals.

"I was just looking for the horse that belongs in our victims stall?" Stella explained, hoping if there was any trace left on the animal it had not been disturbed. Jenny nodded.

"Sure. I moved Oscar to one of our empty stalls when I found David," she stated, walking past Stella and indicating for her to follow. Stopping at the stall across from the feed room, Jenny indicated to the white and brown horse in front of her. The animal was large but not huge like a draft horse, brown splotches covering its white body- it was thickly built and its mane flowed down its neck haphazardly.

Oscar as he was called cowered at the back of his stall until Jenny opened the stall door. It flicked one of his ears towards her before walking up and shoving his nose in her hand. "Oscar knows something happened, he hasn't been himself since I got down here," Jenny indicated, about to give the horse a loving pat. Stella gently stopped Jenny from touching the horse causing her to make a short hiss. Stella looked up concerned, to find the young woman's face drawn up in pain before she quickly shoved the discomfort away and put on a weak smile.

"Sorry," Stella offered, "I just don't want you to touch Oscar. He could have evidence on him to lead us to his owner's killer," the detective explained, Jenny nodding her head in understanding while lightly rubbing her arm.

"No problem, I just really bashed my arm yesterday- it still hurts," Jenny supplied rather unconvincingly as she looked to the ground. Stella watched her for a moment; it was obvious she was lying. The little eye contact combined with her injuries made her think Jenny might be in a not so good relationship. Of course, the young woman could also be involved in their case somehow. Stella did not get that feeling but her gut had been wrong before.

"Sure," Stella answered with a reassuring smile."Will you hold Oscar for me while I look him over?" Jenny nodded. "Bring him out in the aisle please," the detective instructed as she readied her camera and set her kit at her feet.

It did not take long for Stella to process the horse, getting nothing more than a few fibres stuck to his fur. Noting that his right foreleg was wrapped, Stella inquired into the reasoning. Jenny explained that the horse had strained a tendon during a ride a week ago and had been on stall rest with light walking only until it heals.

"Was David angry over this?" she asked curiously, searching for any kind of clue into what happened. Jenny shook her head as Oscar nudged her hand once again, looking for a pat.

"Nah, David was pretty easy going. These things happen. I had been exercising him. When we were riding, he took a ditch funny. If David was the only one riding Oscar, he would be fat and rangy," Jenny indicated, as if it was common logic. Stella nodded.

"So he wasn't mad at you?" Stella asked.

"Nope. I assume that's why David was here early this morning, to check on Oscar before work," Jenny added-- finally giving the horse a scratch behind his ear as he lowered his head, appearing to be enjoying it.

"Alright. Thanks Jenny," Stella thanked the girl as she put the horse back in the stall, walking down to the meet Lindsay who was just packing up her kit. They were also just rolling the body out to the medical examiners van.

"Any luck?" Lindsay asked, picking up her kit and walking with Stella to the exit.

"Found the stable hand and the horse. All processed," the older woman indicated. "Something strange going on with the girl," Stella stated with a frown, going over Jenny's behaviour in her head. "I don't think it's related to the case though," she added. Lindsay looked to Stella, noting her colleague's worried frown.

"What's strange?" Lindsay asked, as they stepped into the cool morning air. The sun was just beginning to shine its rays over the cityscape. It would be a picture perfect New York morning.

"I dunno. I just have a feeling she's in over her head and needs help," Stella replied simply, looking to Lindsay with a crooked smile, lifting one eyebrow unsure. Lindsay nodded in understanding.

"I will keep an eye out if we come back if you like," Lindsay offered, knowing that Stella had a good eye when it came to helping people in need. She had done a lot for herself, helping her work through her own past and getting through the trial. Stella gave her friend a thankful smile.

"Thanks Linds," her older friend replied as the both headed to their respective vehicles. The easy part was done, now came the hard part; finding out the why.


	3. Chapter 3

Mac Taylor looked on through the glass of his office windows, the lab busily humming with its daily thrum of work. It was a typical Monday morning on a Saturday; he half smiled to himself. It was true the crime lab never slept but with the sudden influx of several new cases over the last couple of days, instead of scaling back the work force over the weekend-- it had increased to make allowances for the cases. So as Mac sat there watching his staff, it distinctly felt like a Monday. Never a good omen for the day he thought tiredly.

Through the activity of people in the lab, Mac spotted his partner heading towards his office. She held a manila file folder in hand, as she walked purposefully through the corridors, greeting colleagues as she went by. As if feeling his eyes on her, Stella looked up and smiled as she spotted him watching her. Mac smiled too, it was annoying how she could do that. Reaching his office doors, she pushed them open greeting him as she approached his desk.

"Mac," she greeted casually, as she sat in a chair opposite his desk.

"Stella," he replied, "Anything I can do for you?" he asked, noting that she had that look about her. The 'something's not adding up look'.

"You look like crap Mac," she stated, sidestepping his question. Her superior and best friend had probably been up for the past 24 hours she surmised, doubting that he had managed to get any rest during the night. He had probably left the lab after her and reached the scene prior; that amounted to little sleep.

"Thanks Stella, you really have a way with words," he replied sarcastically, fully aware that a lecture was coming.

"Mac, you need sleep...,"

"Stella, I will get sleep once we have these new cases under control," Mac stated interrupting her, annoyance slipping into his voice. "Besides, I managed a couple hours last night. I'm fine," he reassured. Stella's mouth drew up into a frown, not believing her boss for one minute. She knew him too well but she was willing to play the game for now. Stella gave him a warning glare, letting him know that she was not happy with his answer. "What can I do for you Stella, I know hassling me was not the only reason you're here," Mac stated matter of factly, causing Stella to give him a small smile. She sat in the chair opposite his desk, handing him the folder she held in her hand. Letting out a sigh, she rubbed her neck absently wishing the tension would go away, a give away of her own fatigue.

"This is the Forbes case?" he stated as he read the label and opened the folder. He read over the paper, frowning. Stella nodded.

"Yeah, we got nothing on this case Mac. There are no prints from the body or the rest of the crime scene. A few fibres off the vic that match the ones I collected off the horse- they are flannel fibres most likely from a jacket or sweater. No blood. Lindsay is still cataloguing the prints off the stall door latches," Stella stopped, waiting as Mac looked over the paperwork for himself. After finishing he looked up to his partner, her curly hair was a little more unruly than usual but other than the fatigue he noted in her body you would never know that Stella had been up as long as him. It made him proud, his crew did what they needed to get things done sometimes probably when they should be looking after themselves instead. A trait he was guilty of himself.

"You want to go back to the crime scene?" Mac asked, watching as Stella nodded her head in ascension.

"See if we missed anything. Our killer was wearing gloves- the bruising left on the neck held no identifiable finger marks. Maybe I can find those gloves?" Stella explained, seeing Mac following her train of thought.

"You also get a chance to see who's coming and going. Get a sense of the environment of the stable," Mac added.

"Right," Stella agreed.

"Alright. Take Lindsay back with you and re work the scene, see if you can find anything," Mac instructed, a thankful smile coming to Stella's lips. She had known Mac would agree, she could have easily had this conversation over the phone but having it in person meant that she was more equipped to assess Mac. To take in how he was coping, at times Stella took it as her personal goal to make sure Mac Taylor did not burn out. It was a job only a best friend could do and she did it willingly. She was not always successful but she at least tried. Just as he did for her- they kept tabs on each other that way.

"Thanks Mac," she added before turning and leaving his office. As the door closed behind her, she hoped that the evidence they needed was at the crime scene.

* * *

Jenny Logan grimaced as she gingerly rubbed her throbbing left arm. Leaning against her manure fork, she pulled her jacket up, bruising peeking out beneath the gauze she had used to brace her arm. The normally tanned skin revealed a blue and purple hue, a stark reminder of her run in with Ron two nights ago. She involuntarily shivered remembering her angry boss confronting her about Oscar. His confrontation had turned violent when he had grabbed her arm and slammed it full force into the wall in the feed room. Her boss had stalked out fuming leaving her almost in tears with pain. Jenny thought it might be broken but she was not going to chance going to the hospital, not with Ron around.

Heavy footsteps coming down the aisle forced Jenny to stop inspection of her arm and quickly resume mucking out the stall. Trying not the hiss as she dumped manure into the wheel burrow, Ron stopped in front of her.

"Jenny," he greeted gruffly. The normally cool, collected Ron appeared edgy, as Jenny looked him over. His plaid shirt was wrinkly and his jeans looked dirty. The cowboy hat that usually adorned his balding head was curiously absent. When she did not acknowledge his presence quick enough, he angrily grabbed her fork. "Listen to me girl," he stated heatedly. Jenny looked up quickly.

"Those detectives are back around here. If they ask questions answer 'em, otherwise stay outta their way," Ron ordered, causing Jenny to nod her head in understanding.

"Yeah, okay," Jenny, replied quickly to appease the older man. Ron merely acknowledged her answer by walking away. The young woman heard Ron start speaking to another voice, female, directing her to look around wherever she needed. His voice was pleasant and cool, no trace of the nervousness he had presented earlier. Ron quickly dismissed himself, stated he needed to attend to a new boarder coming to the stable, even though Jenny was not aware of any new boarders.

That was how Ron had been with her too at first, acting all pleasant and happy to be helping a country girl find a job in the big city. He had stated he was just happy to have someone who knew horses and could handle the day-to-day chores of the stable. Jenny had been happy to have a job, one she was actually good at and especially one she loved. That had gone downhill after the first month, two years later Jenny is still putting up with his shit. It was not as if Ron was her boyfriend, there was no relationship like that. He was just manipulative and used everyone around him. She lay in bed at night wondering why she put up with it and tried to convince herself to quit but in the end, she was chicken. If she left this job, it meant going back to Vermont. That had been home but all traces of her childhood and family were gone, which left her with nowhere to go. Therefore, she stayed, enduring his abuse.

Brought out of her reverie, Jenny could hear two female voices conversing at the entrance of the stable. Quietly, she moved to the door of stall, listening and noting that the voices belonged to the detectives that had been there early that morning. Deciding she better heed Ron's wishes, she went back to mucking out the stall. It was taking her longer than normal to do her chores and this was no different.

As she finished the stall, she put her fork in the wheel burrow and pushed it down the aisle to the next stall. It happened to be the stall next to the detectives. Setting her wheel burrow down, she nodded to the detectives as she entered the stall. They both had given her a peculiar look as they acknowledged her, continuing their conversation but at the same time appearing to note every move she made. It made her uneasy and Jenny suddenly wished that she had managed to finish the stalls earlier.

Attempting to pick up her pace so she could move on, Jenny started sifting through the bedding faster. She listened as the CSI's discussed the crime, attempting to find any more evidence from what she could gather from the conversation. Jenny shoved her fork under a large pile of manure, she lifted and a sudden involuntary moan left her mouth. Jenny felt a pop in her left arm and then extreme pain causing her to drop her fork; she grabbed her left arm cradling it against her chest. She tried not to whimper as the throbbing went from a modest five out of ten to a twelve.

Jenny was so absorbed in her pain; she did not notice the detective entering the stall until she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her head shot up as she felt the gentle pressure, flinching involuntarily. The older woman wore a worried expression and backed away slightly at Jenny's reaction. She noted the younger detective stood in the doorway, ready to help.

"Jenny, you okay?" the older woman's words floated to her brain, as Jenny took some deep breathes to control her pain. Keeping her arm very still, Jenny stood up slowly finding the pain dissipating slightly. The younger woman searched her memory for the woman's name.

"Stella right?" Jenny asked, as she closed her eyes against a sharp pain.

"Right. This is Detective Lindsay Monroe," Stella introduced her colleague, the blonde haired younger woman smiled at Jenny; she looked to be a little older than she was. Jenny merely nodded her head slightly in return.

"Let me have a look at that," Stella offered, taking a step closer to the obviously injured young woman. Jenny continued to hold her left arm tightly to her chest, looking to Stella unsure. She did not move away as she brought her hand up to her shoulder reassuringly.

"I just hurt it the other day. It will be fine, just give it a minute...," Jenny's voice drifted off as she clenched her teeth against the pain, her balance shifting as she found herself a little dizzy. Strong arms were suddenly around her.

"Lindsay gimme a hand," Stella ordered, the other woman helping Stella settle Jenny to the ground. Stella slowly lifted the sleeve of the young woman's coat, unsure of why she was hesitant to receive aid. Years of experience in the field prevented her from making a noise as she pushed up the sleeve. Lindsay however let out a quiet 'wow' under her breathe. Her arm was swollen and several shades of blue. Several layers of gauze were wrapped haphazardly around it, apparently meant to help support it. Stella gingerly touched the skin causing Jenny to recoil, brushing her hand away.

"Sorry," Stella offered sympathetically. "Lindsay bring the car around, we'll take her to the hospital. I think it is broken," Stella stated, directing her gaze to Jenny who did not seem surprised. Lindsay promptly left to bring their car around.

"I figured," the young woman mumbled quietly. Stella looked down to Jenny, who was staring off into space. Her eyes were wet but no tears were shed. She had her pain under control for the moment.

"Listen we'll take you to the emergency room. How did this happen?" Stella asked.

"I told you, I bashed it when I was working the other day. I splinted it, I thought it was getting better... obviously not," she answered quietly. Jenny avoided eye contact until Stella helped her stand, forcing her into her eye line. Stella's eyes held no judgement, which Jenny admired, just empathy to help. Stella did not challenge her answer for now.

"Do you want me to contact anyone for you?" Stella asked as Jenny pulled the sleeve back down. She shook her head sadly, a shadow passing over her face for a moment. Stella noted it and tucked it away, knowing there was more to that story. A honk from outside and Stella knew Lindsay was waiting. "Let's go then. Are you sure you can make it?" Stella asked, receiving a firm yes form Jenny as she started out of the stall on her own. Stella remained at her side as they walked to the SUV, Lindsay already standing with the back door open.

Jenny quickly got in the back seat, the woman Lindsay closing the door for her. To her curiosity, Stella proceeded to join her in the back seat. She gave her a reassuring smile as she pulled her cell phone out and started dialling. As the older woman began talking, Jenny tuned out the conversation focusing only on keeping pain at bay and trying to decide how she was going to explain this to Ron.


	4. Chapter 4

Stella Bonasera was naturally a curious person; she supposed that was why she made a good cop and CSI. True it had gotten her into trouble over the years but Stella could not shake the feeling that her curiosity and 'gut' feeling about Jenny were well deserved. The young woman was currently being seen by the ER doctor, the fracture had been confirmed by x-ray and the doctor was now casting her left arm. Stella had attempted to pry Jenny's story out of her on the drive over but the young woman had not been forth coming and she had not pushed considering the circumstances. So she sat waiting, hoping that some of the pieces of the story would come out once Jenny had been put back together and medicated. Lindsay had been picked up and taken back to the crime scene, hopefully to find something useful.

Stella thought back to her conversation with Mac when she told him she was taking the chief witness to the hospital. She had then divulged her suspicions about the young woman.

"_Don't worry Stella, do what you need to do. I can help Lindsay process the scene if she needs a hand," Mac stated reassuringly, reading between the lines of her brief explanation. His gravelly voice belied his fatigue but Stella knew that he trusted her intuition. _

"_Thanks Mac. I want to see if I can help," Stella explained, not wanting to say too much as Jenny was sitting beside her. Mac knew that Stella had a soft spot for those young women that had been in similar situations to her, no one who cared and on a self-destructive path. Sometimes Stella herself did not realize how close to the line she came as far as self-destructive went. Mac tried every day to reassure her that she was surrounded by people who know, trust and care for her. _

"_Sure Stella. Keep me updated," Mac instructed simply. _

"_No problem," Stella replied. They exchanged parting words and Stella had hoped that her help would be appreciated. _

The exam room opened and Jenny was standing before her with her left arm in a plaster cast, a sling holding it against her chest. The doctor was giving her instructions on care and handed her a prescription bottle.

"Those are to help with the pain, take them for a few days and then gradually decrease use as you start to feel better," the doctor instructed as Jenny nodded her in understanding. The doctor, who appeared no older than thirty gave Jenny a stern look, his eyes gave away his worried feeling. Stella noted that he obviously was worried about her safety as well. "If you ever need help or someone to talk to I want you to come back here, okay?" the young man asked, causing Jenny to mutter a quick reply sounding like 'I will be fine'.

The doctor looked up to Stella, a knowing look in his eye. It was obvious he was worried he was going to see her again. "Okay, well Detective Bonasera will take you back to your residence. " Jenny nodded, giving the doctor a handshake and a thank you. She smiled weakly at him; trying to convince them both, she was okay. "Take care now," the doctor said in parting, leaving the two of them alone.

"This way kiddo," Stella instructed as she led Jenny down the hallway to the ER exit. The SUV was parked close to the doors causing Jenny to laugh. Stella picked up on its meaning. "Yeah, perk of being a cop," Stella explained with a smile. Jenny smiled but then stopped suddenly at the side of the vehicle. The young woman was suddenly unsure if she should get in the front seat or in the back. Noting her dilemma, Stella invited her to sit in the front, the relief visible on Jenny's face.

"Thanks," Jenny replied simply, fumbling with her seatbelt with one hand until she got it buckled.

The ride to the stable was silent except for some simple conversation. It was approaching dark as Stella brought the vehicle into the stable drive. She put it in park and they both sat in silence for a moment. Stella's attempts to pick away Jenny's armour and glimpse her story had been unsuccessful leaving her feeling frustrated.

"Thank you," Jenny stated breaking the silence. She nervously rubbed her casted arm and then unbuckled her seatbelt. Stella had noticed that her anxiety had seemed to be increasing the closer they got to the stable. "I probably would still be dealing with this otherwise," Jenny added, trying to be humorous, trying to make the conversation light. Stella gave her a small smile.

"Well now you can start to feel better," Stella answered, giving Jenny a reassuring smile. The young woman nodded, sighed heavily and then reached for the door handle. Quickly Stella interrupted her.

"Listen I know you already heard this tonight but if you ever need anything, I want you to call me," Stella stated, producing her card from her pocket, holding it out for Jenny to take. "I know what it is like to have no one who cares or to look out for you. No one to help you out of a bad situation," Stella added, her voice going far away for a moment while her head took her back to some unpleasant memories. Refocusing she looked to Jenny who sat staring at her card. Stella reached out with her other hand and touched the young woman's shoulder. Jenny looked up to meet Stella's gaze.

Finding herself unable to respond she nodded, swallowing hard as she pushed away a wave of feelings that she did not, _could not_ feel right now. She nimbly took the card, making Stella smile thankfully. Finally finding her voice, Jenny replied. "Thank you again," her words seemed inadequate for her actions but they were all she could produce for the moment. Stepping out of the vehicle, she grabbed her prescription from Stella.

"Any time, I mean it kiddo," Stella reaffirmed one more time. Jenny simply smiled, closing the door and walking to the stable. She did not look back; Stella did not expect her too.

* * *

Stella sat in Mac's office, their day once again running late. They sat going over the Forbes case, Lindsay had not been able to find the gloves. They had however discovered that of all the prints on the door latches, Oscar's door was the only one with Ron Kilner's print on it. David Forbes body also did not have any marks to indicate he had fought his killer. This would mean he knew his attacker, maybe someone like Ron Kilner. It could have been argued maybe Jenny had somehow committed the act and sustained her arm injury in the process. Besides the fact that she was maybe 140 pounds versus Forbes 200 plus pounds frame, the doctor had confirmed Jenny's injury had occurred a couple days prior. This took her out of the picture.

"I think Kilner did it," Stella offered, looking up to Mac as he examined the findings. He nodded his head in agreement but frowned.

"Unfortunately we do not have much evidence to prove that at the moment," Mac replied. It could easily be argued that because he was the owner, of course his print would be on the latch. "And we are still lacking motive. If anything, it should be David angry over his injured horse," Mac surmised. He leaned back in his chair, throwing his pen and papers on his desk. He had to admit that he was tired and it was starting to get to him.

"Tomorrow I think we look over Ron's alibi again. His wife confirmed he was at home sleeping but according to his own report, he slept on the couch. He could have slipped out without her knowing. Lindsay found out that Forbes was being laid off his job. He had many unpaid bills at his apartment, perhaps this was over money. Maybe our vic owed payments for his horse and Ron went to settle the score," Mac looked up to Stella to find her gaze far off, not paying attention to his presentation of information. Mac pushed away the irritated side of him that wanted to lash out angrily at her for not paying attention; instead, he focused on the worried expression she wore. Without her even speaking, Mac knew what the cause of her inattention was.

"Stella, you know as well as I do that you can only help a person so much before the ball is in their court and it is their turn to step up to the plate. To take responsibility for their own future and seek help," Mac supplied, watching as her green eyes shifted their attention from nothing to match his gaze. The corner of her mouth lifted slightly, she knew all too well, she thought to herself. Mac knew that. Stella sees a knowing look pass through his features; he too has gone through this before.

"Yeah," Stella replies simply. Dropping his gaze and rubbing her arms, feeling the late night chill starting to set in. All of a sudden, Stella finds herself feeling exhaustion starting to hit her. She had been staying if off most of the day but her body's demands were now tired of being ignored.

"Listen both of us needs sleep. This will wait till the morning," Mac states as he rises from his chair, being uncharactistically willing to leave work for rest. Stella does not argue for once.

"Okay," Stella agrees as she rises from her chair. Mac grabs his coat and ushers her out of his office. After retrieving her jacket from her own office, Mac walks Stella to the elevators. Stella smiles when she feels him staring at her.

"Don't think I don't know what you are doing," Stella warns with a smile as the elevator doors open. Mac smiles innocently as he encourages her to step into the elevator, following step. The doors close and the car begins its descent down the shaft.

"I'm escorting a friend to the door," Mac states simply, shrugging his shoulders. Stella does not reply but he knows she knows. The only reason he was going home was that he knew Stella would not leave with without him. They were very similar in their work ethic and Mac would stay up days until he saw his work through. He would not however see his partner succumb to the same mentality. If that meant that occasionally he had to face the situation and go home with work left to be done, so be it. He would do it for Stella.


	5. Chapter 5

The team stood around one of the lay out tables. Various pieces of evidence lay on the table, all pertaining to the Forbes case. With many of the cases well underway, Mac had thought a brainstorm with the whole team might help bring this case closer to a resolution.

"Well, ah call me a miracle worker but I managed to find Ron Kilner's car going through a set of lights around 3:30 that morning when he was supposedly in bed, " Detective Danny Messer said with a smile, his thick New York accent punctuating his speech.

"Well that is good. That means it is possible he had time to make it back to the stable and kill David Forbes," Doctor Sheldon Hawkes states, looking around the table finding a similar look of frustration on his colleagues faces.

"It also means that Ron has not been truthful and is indeed hiding something," Lindsay states.

"We need more evidence. As of this moment, we have nothing that places Ron directly at the crime scene. The receipt Lindsay found from the feed store did belong to Ron but could have fallen there at anytime. We need to place those fibres to Ron Kilner's clothes. I want his business records- we need to find out if Forbes owed him money," Lindsay, Danny and Sheldon all nodded their heads in agreement.

"Lindsay, take Flack and get those records. If Ron has a flannel jacket we want it," Mac stated. Lindsay nodded. "Stella, go over our vics records again," his partner nodded. "Okay, let's get this solved," Mac affirmed to his team before leaving for his office.

Lindsay walked up to Stella as the rest of the team dispersed to their respective jobs.

"Any luck with that girl yesterday?" Lindsay asked, following Stella as she headed down the hall to her office. The older woman shook her head sadly.

"No. I gave her my card in case she gets in trouble," Stella explained, shrugging her shoulders. "I just don't think she is ready yet," Stella added.

"Did she say who her abuser was?" Lindsay asked curiously. Another shake of Stella's head followed.

"She did not say much on the way home," Stella replied as they reached her office. Lindsay got her coat from her chair and then stood in the doorway.

"Well hopefully she gets her act together," Lindsay stated, meeting Stella's worried gaze. The younger woman could tell that Stella was taking this more personally than usual. With someone like Stella rooting for you, Jenny was crazy to refuse her help. Stella looked to Lindsay, her face mirroring her own concern.

"Let's hope," Stella stated.

* * *

Jenny was rationing out feed into feed tubs when Ron blew into the feed room, his tail feathers obviously ruffled. Jenny stopped her task, as the older man came to a stop in front of her. He was still angry about the cops taking her to the hospital.

_"I would have taken you Jenny," Ron stated the previous night upon seeing her return to the stable. "You did not have to go and put a show on for the detectives. I know you did so they would take you to the hospital. Didn't I tell you to keep to yourself?" Ron had yelled, as if it was her fault, as if she had been the one to smash her arm against the wall. _

_"It just happened Ron. I didn't mean to...," Jenny had pleaded, the older man ignoring her comments. _

_"To finish it off, you did not even finish your chores," Ron added, throwing his arms up in the air. Stepping in until he was an inch from her face, Ron took hold of her shoulder. "Don't even think about taking the day off tomorrow. Or I will be kicking your sorry ass back to Vermont," roughly letting go, Ron left in a hurry leaving Jenny confused and scared. _

"What the hell did you tell them?" Ron asked his voice low and angry. He stood menacingly in front of her, blocking the doorway. Jenny looked up confused from her task.

"I didn't tell them anything," Jenny replied, her voice rising slightly at the accusation.

"You must have said something. Them cops just came back wanting business records and my clothes. How do you explain that?" Ron asked, believing that Jenny had sold him out to the cops. How she could know, he could not figure out. He had gone through great lengths to be quiet.

"I can't. I did not tell them a thing, other than driving me to the hospital that was the only time I talked to the detectives other than that morning," Jenny explained, seeing that this was getting her nowhere. A growl low in Ron's throat warned her that something was coming. Moving quickly, Ron had Jenny pinned against the wall—his hand at her throat. His other hand held her casted arm against the wall. Jenny felt her pulse quicken, suddenly feeling her world was spinning out of control.

"I think you squealed on me when they gave you drugs," Ron stated threateningly.

"Ron, I seriously don't know what you are talking about. I never told anything. There was nothing to tell...,"Jenny stated, feeling Ron squeeze his hand around her throat just a little tighter. A sick feeling entered her stomach as realization dawned on her. She looked Ron in the eye, maintaining his gaze. She wanted to see for herself if he blinked, if he had remorse. "You killed David, didn't you?" Jenny stated quietly, almost serenely. An evil smile spread across Ron's face and then he started laughing.

"You know I guess I overestimated you. All along, I thought you knew. If I had kept my own mouth shut...," angrily, Ron stepped back releasing Jenny and kicked a feed dish sending it flying across the floor until it hit the wall sending feed flying. "Then again you are just a country girl," Ron added, once again coming in close—his hand once again around her neck.

"The only reason I hired you is because I saw a scared stupid girl that was dumb enough to follow someone like me. You put up with my shit and continued as if nothing happened," Ron leaned in close, his mouth at her ear. "You weren't even pretty enough to fuck," the older man once again took to laughing, Jenny slowly realizing the mess she was in. She swallowed hard, perspiration building on her forehead.

"Tonight we might rectify that," Ron stated almost seductively, his hand trailing along the outline of her jaw causing it to tremble slightly. Ron smiled, which was the last thing she saw before his hand connected with her face.


	6. Chapter 6

Stella sat wearily at her desk, once again going over lab reports. Her search of Forbes bank records revealed he had been close to filing for bankruptcy. Bills had been piling up and he was about to lose his job. Stella was thinking that he owed a lot of money to Ron and he was tired of waiting for it. Sighing, she took a sip of her coffee hoping it would help keep her awake. Eyeing her clock, she noted it was approaching 11pm, time to call it quits.

Her mind wandered back to the previous night, how Mac had gone home with her, both of them knowing it was only because the other was going. She wondered if that made them sad, they knew each other so well. It brought back all those unresolved questions or rather unasked questions surrounding their relationship.

The shrill ring of Stella's cell phone brought her out of her thoughts. Looking at the unknown caller ID, she wondered who would be calling this late at night.

"Bonasera," she answered, immediately hearing ragged breathing on the end of the line bringing her full attention to the phone call.

"Stella..." the words were weak and scared but the detective recognized the voice as Jenny's which immediately caused her mind to go into over drive.

"Where are you?" Stella asked simply, not wanting Jenny to waste her words.

"Oscar..." the young woman replied, as if that was explanation enough. It was for Stella, which could only mean she was at the stable.

"Hang on Kiddo, I'm on my way," Stella stated as the line went dead. Swearing under her breathe, she ran out of her office. Seeing Mac still there as well, Stella ran to his office—opening the doors quickly causing them to creak loudly at the misuse. "Mac, Jenny's in trouble," Stella stated. The urgency in her voice caused him to jump into action. Grabbing his coat as they left his office, his arm gravitated to Stella's shoulders, trying to reassure her.

"I'll drive."


	7. Chapter 7

The truck was barely in park when Stella had the door open, leaving the vehicle. Despite the fact that Stella hardly knew this young woman, the late night call was an indication that something must have gone wrong. She recognized that stubborn strength that resided in Jenny, that feeling that no matter the circumstances you could take care of it yourself. Rely on no one because you were alone. Stella had been a victim of that thinking many a time, continued to be. In the pit of her stomach, Stella knew calling had been a last resort and warranted immediate attention.

"Stella!" Mac yelled before Stella could go charging into the unknown situation. His partner turned to him with worry on her face. "Take this slow, we don't know what the situation is," Mac stated, putting a steadying hand on her arm before withdrawing his weapon. Stella took a deep breath, pushing away the worry and focusing on the job. Mac watched the change, Stella readying her own weapon and indicating she was ready with a nod.

Together they approached the stable, the main lights cutting a swath of light into the darkness. As they entered, the horses appeared restless, several whinnies sounding off as they walked down the aisle way. Stella noted that one of the stall doors was slightly ajar; a white and brown head could be seen inside. In the quiet, soft crying was heard. The duo quickening their pace, Mac opened the door slowly as Stella peered inside, weapon ready.

Light entering into the dark stall revealed Jenny's form huddling in the corner of the stall. Oscar stood protectively in front of her, their presence causing him to turn his head and pin his ears at the intruders. Stella stepped forward but the action caused the horse to step closer, using his size to push her away. He continued to pin his ears in a threatening manner.

"Jenny?" Stella greeted, deciding to make contact before she chanced the animal trying to bite her. Looking under Oscar's body, they could see Jenny lift her head slowly. Even from their distance, her swollen and bleeding face could be discerned.

"Stella?" the young woman's voice was hoarse and quiet.

"I'm here kiddo." Stella reassured. "Is anyone else here?" she asked, hoping to get a better understanding of the situation. Jenny shook her head slowly.

"No. Ron's gone," she indicated. Stella looked to Mac; it seemed Ron was going to be having more than murder charges laid against him. Mac eyed Stella with a knowing look; they were not quite so trusting that Ron had simply left.

"We're just gonna check. I'll be right back," Stella promised, again bringing her weapon in front of her as the duo slowly walked the building. A few minutes later, they had determined it was all clear and they were indeed alone. The bastard was lucky, Stella thought angrily as they returned to Jenny's position.

"Stella I'll get an ambulance on route," Mac indicated as he holstered his weapon and pulled out his cell phone. Stella nodded, doing the same and once again entered into the stall finding that Oscar had positioned himself off to the side, apparently satisfied that no harm was going to come to Jenny.

As Stella approached the young woman, it allowed her the chance to see her injuries in full detail. A trickle of bright blood could be seen trickling down her forehead, her right eye swollen shut. Several cuts and lacerations also adorned her face. Her left arm was drawn up protectively to her chest, the plaster cast itself appeared chipped in places and drops of blood had soaked into the plaster. Jenny's clothes were ripped and from the marks on her hands, it was obvious she had put up a fight.

"Jenny, we got help on the way," Stella indicated as she knelt on the woman's left side. The young woman simply nodded, a tear trickling down her cheek leaving a trail through the blood.

"I thought I was going to die...," Jenny states, her voice breaking as she thinks about it. Stella takes a deep breath, pushing away her own experiences with those thoughts far away for the moment. She could honestly say she knew how she felt. Stella risked putting a hand on her arm, hoping it would be reassuring. For the first time Jenny picked her gaze up from the floor, her eyes locking with Stella's.

"You are safe now," Stella words came out softly, squeezing Jenny's arm for effect. The younger woman simply nodded her head, hoping it was true. "Where are you hurt?" Stella asked, hoping to identify any life threatening injuries if they existed. Her preliminary once over appeared to reveal nothing too serious. Jenny continued to keep her gaze locked with Stella's, the older woman becoming her lifeline.

"Everywhere...," Jenny stated, grimacing with pain. Making eye contact with Stella, she realized specifics were wanted. Sighing Jenny began to list her injuries. "My ribs hurt a lot, I think I passed out for a while but I don't know how long. My left arm hurts a lot again. Other than that, minor scrapes and bruises," Jenny surmised. She shifted her weight against the wall trying to relieve the discomfort in her sides but it only accomplished causing her to hiss in pain. In the distance, they could hear the sirens of emergency vehicles.

"They're on their way Stella," Mac announced outside the stall, leaving to meet the first responders at the entrance.

"Jenny, did Ron hurt you any other ways?" Stella asked, watching Jenny for her response. A knowing look passing over her, understanding just to what the detective was referring. The young woman thought back to Ron's threatening words. Her eyes dipped to the floor for a moment before returning their gaze to Stella, her eyes glistening.

"No...,"her voice was almost a whisper. She paused a moment before continuing, "He said I wasn't pretty enough...," her voice broke and tears started to flow freely down her face. Stella exhaled with relief, glad that Ron's attack had not escalated to rape. From outside, Stella could hear vehicles stopping, knowing the ambulance was here.

"Jenny, the paramedics are here to take you to the hospital." Stella explained, as Jenny took a gulping breath in an attempt to bring her breathing under control and bring some measure of control to her body. With a shaky hand, she wiped away her tears creating a smudge of blood and tears on her face. Jenny nodded in understanding, now searching the floor as she tried to rein herself in. Stella placed a steady hand on her shoulder, Jenny looking up at her touch. "I will stay with you, no problem ok?" Stella indicated, watching for her response. Jenny gave her a thankful look, a small smile gracing her lips for a moment. "Ok." Stella replied with a reassuring smile.

Paramedics then appeared next to them, Stella stepping back to let them do their job. She watched as Jenny's gaze followed hers, continuing to use her as a lifeline. It brought back memories to her situation with Frankie, when Mac had found her she remembered his voice calling to her. When she finally woke up his face helped to keep her focused, to stop her from slipping into unconsciousness again. Apparently, Jenny was using her for the same thing.

"Stella...," Mac's voice drifted to her, his hand on her shoulder a calming presence. Stella turned to him, giving him a sad smile. His eyes held sympathy; he knew what memories this would bring up.

"I'm going with Jenny to the hospital," Stella indicated, watching his face for a response. He merely gave her a reassuring smile indicating he already knew that.

"Sure, I'll meet you there," Mac stated simply. "I called Lindsay and Danny in to process the scene to see if we can get any more evidence against Ron Kilner," Mac added, Stella nodding her head in agreement.

"We need to get this guy, Mac," Stella stated firmly, her eyes cold with anger.

"We will Stella," Mac promised.

The paramedics pushed the stretcher by with Jenny now strapped in, attached to several tubes and lines. Stella made to follow, Mac giving her shoulder one final squeeze before she left. Mac knew that she needed it.

* * *

Jenny looked out from her vantage point to the throng of people present. The emergency room was filled to capacity, beds lining hallways and people sitting wherever a space presented itself. It smelled of blood, sickness, antiseptic and death. The swell of people made her feel little, insignificant. The noise of monitors, various medical equipment, medical professionals and the occasional crying greeted her sporadically when the door to the exam room was opened. The windows allowed her to spy on the activity of the ER, anything to take her mind off her own situation.

Examining the room, Jenny realizes it is the same one she occupied days prior. When she had been offered help by both the kind Doctor and by the detective. In her ultimate wisdom, she had refused and now she found herself back. It only helped her mind to further label her sorry existence a failure. The opening of the door and the silence is punctuated by a loud cacophony of sounds causing Jenny to pick up her head. Stella enters into the room, a reassuring smile on her lips. In fact, the older woman had been nothing but reassuring from the beginning and Jenny could not figure it out. Figure out what her angle was. The detective held a metal case in one hand and a large camera in the other, which she set on a chair at the foot of the bed. Walking to the window, Stella shuts the blinds and draws the curtain before turning to her.

"Jenny," Stella starts, knowing that what was coming was always the hard part. "Because of your attack, we want to collect evidence off you that Ron left behind. We will be able to use it to prosecute him, to make sure he will not hurt you again," Stella explained, watching Jenny's mask she has put up begin to falter. "We take pictures of your injuries, swabs if needed, collect trace from under your fingernails," Stella continued. Jenny's brown eyes betrayed her scared inner feelings. She simply nodded her understanding of her explanation. "Now either I can collect this evidence or the forensic nurse, whichever you would prefer," Stella ended, leaving the choice up to her.

There was silence as Jenny continued staring off into space, Stella not sure she was heard. Since they had entered the ambulance, the young woman had not said a word. Stella imagined she thought if she said nothing, then this was all a nightmare. She remembered those feelings. Being processed for evidence had been tremendously hard, even now several years after and those memories were whisked to the forefront when she had situations such as these. It brought those emotions dangerously close to breaking her very well constructed barrier. Realizing that the woman had yet to answer, Stella prodded again.

"Jenny, do you understand?" Stella asked, causing Jenny's gaze to stray to her face. She nodded. Apparently, she was not talking yet. "Would you like someone else to process you?" Stella continued, her question meant with a very firm no. Gathering herself, Stella opened her kit at the foot of the bed putting a pair of gloves on. Picking up her camera, she once again gave a reassuring smile.

"Okay," Stella stated, indicating her intention to begin. Slowly Stella went through the process, explaining each step and what she wanted Jenny to do. As if re-discovering the injuries, each picture would cause Jenny to feel along the lines of the assault to her flesh as if committing it to memory.

Stella continued in silence, the stillness in the room over powering but neither one wanting to break it. As Stella was pulling trace from under her fingernails, a sob escaped from Jenny punctuating the silence. The detective looked up to find tearstains once again trailing down her cheek. A steadying breath was taken, eyes rising to meet Stella's. Her gaze had remained on the wall throughout the procedure thus far. The attempt to shut herself off, to stop feeling and hearing was a common reaction. One she remembered herself, it was a coping mechanism for an awful situation.

"Do you need a break?" Stella asked simply, receiving a firm headshake. Stella moved to her other hand, feeling the tremble that emanated from Jenny's hand. Finishing, putting the evidence safely away in an envelope Stella pulls out a swab. Breaking the seal, she pushes the sterile swab out to take a sample of blood from a laceration, then from several drops on her arms. Labelling each swab, she tucks it away in her kit. Removing her gloves and discarding them in the trash, she rubs her hands on her pants to wipe away the sweat. Feeling Jenny's eyes following her, she pulls a stool beside the bed.

"That's it, I'm finished," Stella affirmed, resting upon the stool giving Jenny a small smile. "You did great kiddo," she reassures. Jenny simply nods, attempting to draw her knees to her chest but accomplishing only a grimace, her ribs jarring painfully under her flesh. Deciding against it, she settles for simply resting against her pillows. The silence is disturbed by a knock at the door causing Stella to leave the bedside, pulling the curtain back as she goes.

A man, the detective that had been with Stella enters and stands at the periphery. He understands that too many bodies, too much going on can overload a person going through a situation like this. He simply nods to Jenny, trying to give the strength needed to get through this in a simple look. She appreciates his gesture, giving him a small sombre smile in return. As the detectives immerse themselves in conversation, she takes the opportunity to close her eyes for a few seconds. She lets the environment envelope her.

* * *

Mac gave Stella a smile as he relieved his partner of her kit and camera.

"I got everything," Stella states quietly, noting that Jenny has closed her eyes. "I got trace from her under her nails, a couple finger prints...," Stella explained, Mac nodding.

"The evidence should be what we need," he replied, his deep voice conveying his want to put the man behind bars. "I will keep you updated," Mac added, knowing that for now Stella was otherwise occupied. Stella smiled, reaching out and quickly squeezing her friends hand in appreciation. Stepping out of the way of the door, a trio of medical professionals enter into the exam room.

"Thanks Mac. I think she needs a friendly face that she has at least met before," Stella explained, watching Jenny's eyes open in surprise to find herself surrounded by hospital glad professionals. An older gentlemen of the bunch proceeded to begin talking to Jenny, her eyes sweeping over the unwelcome guests and then to Stella.

"I agree, she looks spooked," Mac stated as he too observed the exchange between the Doctor and Jenny. "I get the feeling there is more than just this situation plaguing this young woman," he posited, watching as the Doctor began touching and feeling the young woman's injuries. It was obvious she was uncomfortable, a bit like a jack-in-the-box ready to spring at any moment. Stella agreed. Jenny's gaze was almost pleading with Stella to get rid of the people that surrounded her. Finally having enough of the supposed medical professionals not taking notice of Jenny's obvious discomfort with the situation, Stella bid Mac farewell and stepped up to her bedside.

"Excuse me...,"Stella interrupted, looking to read the Doctor's nametag. A frown appearing on his weathered face, "Doctor Faulkner but this young woman has just survived an assault and I am finding your bedside manner appalling. No introductions, no consent before beginning physical examination—I assume this is not your first assault case?" Stella asked, the silenced man only shaking his head, a glimmer to his eye. His hands ruffled in pockets nervously obviously not used to being challenged. "Well I would thank you if you remembered what this young woman has gone through and mandate your care accordingly," Stella finished, eyeing the other white clad person whom she assumed to be a resident or medical student. The third body, a nurse, held a small smile to lips for a second before removing it quickly. Obviously that had not been the first time that complaint had been raised.

Clearing of throat was heard as Doctor Faulkner introduced himself and his colleagues before apologizing and continuing with his examination. As the doctor pulled up Jenny's hospital gown and began feeling along her ribcage, her hand shot out desperately wanting to grab onto something. Stella held her hand out, Jenny looking at her appreciatively as she took the offered hand and squeezed lightly through the doctor's ministrations.

Finishing Faulkner explained they would be putting a new cast on her left arm, the bone did not need to be reset thankfully but Stella found Jenny's gaze looking to her questioningly. There was a question in her eyes, would she stay. As the nurse began preparing plaster and the doctor prepared to remove the old cast, Stella smiled back.

"I'm going nowhere," she stated firmly, Jenny squeezing her hand appreciatively.


	8. Chapter 8

Danny and Lindsay stood surveying the scene, various evidence markers haphazardly placed around the feed room. Their search for evidence had thus far been more successful than the Forbes case. The room was a mess, horse feed littered the floor—several bags had holes probably left by a kick from a boot which had sent the feed pouring on to the floor. They had already scared away several mice ready to take advantage of the all you can eat buffet.

"You know," Lindsay states, breaking the silence, "this scene is much more different than our first. It's a mess, there is evidence all over," she stood with her gloved hands clasped together in front of her. Danny stood close to her, his arm touching hers. Close enough to smell his cologne bringing a small smile to her lips and forcing her to step away just a touch—it was thoughts such as those that got her in trouble. They broke her concentration and it was not the time for that. Danny smiled for a second, noting the slight distance now between them and the cause.

"Well, ya know this act was much more spur of the moment. Killing Forbes was a more thought out plan. This time his anger got the better of 'em. Going by Jenny's past behaviour, the bastard knew she had no one to go to and would tell no one," Danny states, kneeling down to examine the paper edges of a feedbag, with a pair of forceps he pulls away a small fibre. Holding it up to the light he examines it.

"Looks like leather or rawhide," Lindsay observes, causing Danny to look at her with one eyebrow raised.

"Alright Montana, I defer to a country girls judgement on this one," Danny replies with a smile. Lindsay gives him a warning glare.

"Danny, it looks like it could be off a boot. I noticed the owner wears cowboy boots, which are made of leather. It could be off the sole or some of the tooling could have come off when he kicked the bag," Lindsay explained, opening a small envelope as Danny put the fibre in it.

"Well add one more for the good guys," Danny replies with a smile as he labels the envelope and adds it to the pile already collected.

"I wouldn't be celebrating just yet Danny," Mac's voice said from behind them, causing them to turn to meet their boss. Mac stood in the doorway, his face tired and serious.

"How's Jenny?" Lindsay asks as Mac steps up beside them, surveying the evidence of the assault.

"Shaken but medically ok. Stella processed her; I am taking the evidence to the lab. She is going to stay with Jenny for now." Danny and Lindsay both nodded their heads in unison, indicating their understanding.

"Well, we're finished here Mac," Danny indicated, rubbing his hands together, "we're ready to nab this guy," he added.

"What did you find?" Mac asked looking to the evidence bagged at their feet.

"We found some blood drops on the floor, wall and on a feed bag. Most likely the attacker entered into the room, beginning his attack while Jenny stood against this wall," Lindsay indicating the wall opposite the door, "that accounts for the blood on the wall. Jenny then falls against the feedbags, leaving the drops there. Finally, on the floor where she lay unconscious and her injuries leave blood there. Jenny then crawled to the stall where you found her," Lindsay stated, watching as Mac located the drops of blood leading to the stall across from the feed room.

"We got a partial handprint on the wall and several fingerprints. As well as a leather fibre from one of the feedbags," Danny added. Mac remains quiet, the scene no doubt playing out in his mind as he examines the evidence before him.

"The holes in the feedbags no doubt from an angry attacker before the initial attack," Mac adds, his colleagues both signifying their agreement.

"Good, let's get back to the lab. Flack picked up Ron Kilner, he's being interviewed," Mac stated, looking to his watch and realizing that it was several hours past midnight as he turned to leave. "He denies anything," the former marine added.

"The bastard didn't even run," Danny responds, disbelief in his voice.

"Didn't think he had too," Lindsay adds with a sombre smile, glad that Jenny had decided to call Stella. The three begin to leave the feed room, their evidence in tow. Lindsay stops as they exit the room, a smile springing to her lips. She sets her kit and evidence down, pulling a fresh pair of gloves out of her pocket. The two men stop, looking at her questioningly.

"What's up Montana?" Danny drawls in his New York accent, watching as the young woman ignores them and walks across the aisle, stopping at a wooden ladder built into the wall that leads into the loft above. Without explanation, she pulls out her flashlight and climbs up into the darkness above.

"Hey Lindsay be careful up there," Mac adds, his voice muffled from the floor between them, causing Lindsay to smile. They were always worrying over her, she could take care of herself she thought a little bitterly.

Lindsay's flashlight illuminates several hundred bales of hay. Sweeping the light over the loft, she determines there is a wooden walkway down the middle of the stable, the hay piled to both sides and the ends. As she walks down it slowly, Lindsay notes the hatches in the floor that would be used to drop hay to the horses in the stall below it. There were ten hatches corresponding to ten stalls below. Getting to the end of the walkway her light finds what she was looking for. Sitting on a bale of hay sat two pairs of leather gloves, one pair distinctly smaller than the other.

Smiling Lindsay picks up the two pairs of gloves and carefully makes her way back to the ladder. As she reached the ground, she holds her findings up to her colleagues. Mac looks impressed and Danny smiles.

"Boom," he says simply, both agreeing.

* * *

Stella sighed happily, taking in the aroma of fresh coffee, smiling as she entered into their staff lounge finding Lindsay waiting impatiently for a fresh pot to finish perking. Her fingers danced on the counter top giving away her frustration at waiting.

"Hey," Stella greeted as she reached for her mug from behind Lindsay. The younger woman looked her friend over as she stepped out of the way, trying to get an indication of how Stella was making out. As usual, not even a hair out of place- the only indication she was tired was in her eyes. Stella's green eyes held worry and showed fatigue.

"Hey," Lindsay replied.

"Waiting patiently I see," Stella states with a knowing smile as she leans against the counter, also waiting for the coffee. This causes Lindsay to chuckle, putting her hands up in a surrendering fashion.

"Guilty," Lindsay answers, playing with her mug on the counter. "How is Jenny doing?" she asks, hoping that the young woman would be able to move on after this whole ordeal. Stella pauses for a moment, looking at her hands before looking up to Lindsay.

"Cuts and bruises, couple cracked ribs. A concussion and they had to put a new cast on. Keeping her in for observation for a day," Stella explained, as the coffee finished perking. Lindsay grabbed the pot, pouring the brown liquid into her cup as well as Stella's. The aroma brought both their bodies a needed uplift. It was now very close to morning, making it a very long night for everyone. To Stella, it felt like days since she had received the phone call from Jenny.

"She's lucky," Lindsay replies, "If she didn't get out now, she might have ended up on Sid's table," she added with a grim smile. Stella acknowledges her point with a simple nod.

"Didn't say much after we got to the hospital, I could tell she didn't want to be alone though," Stella explained, her thoughts once again returning to her own experience. Flack and Mac had been her support during that time, Jenny had no one. Knowing how hard that was, Stella had been unable to leave Jenny alone.

"I'm sure she appreciated it," Lindsay states, squeezing Stella's hand for a moment causing the older woman to smile briefly. Stella knew how lucky she was, her co-workers were like her family. They looked out for each other and Stella would fight fiercely for any one of them.

"I stayed until she fell asleep but I told her I would be back in the morning," Stella added as she stirred milk into her coffee. Bringing the cup to her lips, she tastes the hot liquid causing her to smile. "Where are we on the evidence?" Stella then asks as Lindsay lifts her cup to her own lips before replying.

"The sample palm and fingerprints we got from Ron matched the prints we got from where he assaulted Jenny. The blood we collected at the scene and that you collected off Jenny was all hers. The fingerprints you collected also matched Jenny's. Combined with the damage he did to his own hands, we have enough evidence to put him at the scene," Lindsay stated.

"Good. I also hear you found our ace in the hole?" Stella prods, causing Lindsay to blush slightly.

"I found the gloves in the Hay loft," Lindsay answers with a smile, "Any self-respecting country girl knows to wear gloves when handling hay," Lindsay continues, as if that would be common knowledge, "I remembered when I saw the ladder, that the gloves could be in the loft...and they were," Lindsay finishes proudly.

"Good, maybe we can nail this bastard," Stella adds, very glad for Lindsay's inside knowledge on the matter.

"Mac and Flack are talking to him now," Lindsay states, watching as Stella sets her empty mug down.

"Let's go see then shall we?" Stella responds, as she walks past Lindsay. She wanted to listen to him try to talk his way out of this one.


	9. Chapter 9

Ron Kilner never considered himself an angry man but as he sat watching the detectives watching him closely, trying to put the 'squeeze' on him, he felt a slight tinge of anger beginning to build. He had been more than helpful when they had come around disrupting his business, answered all their questions and allowed them full access to his stable. Ron had considered himself more than helpful but that had not gotten him very far. David Forbes was beginning to cost him more than he had bargained for. As it was, the man already owed him several months' board plus vet fees.

The NYPD had arrived half past midnight to arrest him at his house stating he was charged with murdering David Forbes and assaulting Jenny Logan. They took him away in handcuffs leaving his frantic wife behind in tears. Ron had reassured her and told her to stay home; she would be more of a hindrance once her mouth started flapping. So now here he sat, facing the detectives whilst they tried to pry the truth out of him.

"So Ron, we just gonna sit and stare at each other all night? Do you have a side to this story...because we like it a lot better when we don't have to guess," The young detective, Flack, stood behind the older man, Taylor, who sat opposite him at the table. The younger man raised his eyebrow as he waited for Ron's response. Ron already had his type figured out, career cop coming from a long line of New York City cops he thought amused. Probably made promotions quickly and was looking to make Ron his next big baddie safely locked away from the public.

Ron smiled, making eye contact with both the detectives before shrugging. As he did so, Flack lost some of his patients and began pacing behind the table. The young man tiredly rubbed his hand through his hair before speaking.

"You think this is funny Ron? I sure as hell don't. We have one man dead and a young woman assaulted, and we can tie both of these crimes to you, Ron." Flack stated, pulling out the chair beside the older detective and deciding to sit down.

"I am a law abiding man detective's. That is why I cooperated and allowed you full access to my stable and staff," Ron replied, then holding up his handcuffed hands. "This is all a grand misunderstanding in my books. I am a forgiving man; I know that once you boys have a better look at your evidence, you will see. Just ask Jenny. I have never hurt that girl...hell I gave her a place to live." Ron adds, giving both detectives a toothy smile. The younger detective sighs and looks to the older man.

"See the problem with that story is Ron, that we already have evidence to prove you did these things. That is why we're all having this here party," Flack states. Ron kept his smile plastered to his face but his hands formed into fists for a moment, this whole thing was beginning to get tiresome. Ron looked to the older man, his eyes challenging him. Ron could tell that his life experience was broader than the younger man's was. His style and poise spoke of a military background. His eyes were hard, a carefully constructed mask hiding his real inner thoughts- a man who had seen more than his share of hurt.

"Mr. Kilner, as you admit yourself you are a law abiding citizen. Your record was spotless, not so much as a parking ticket...," Taylor stated, his face remaining expressionless as he opened a manila folder and pulled out a piece of paper. He laid it in front of Ron. Curiously, Ron looked over the paper- the official NYPD logo was stamped at the top and typewriter print covered the yellowing page. He looked up to the older detective.

"This supposed to mean something to me or what?" Ron asked, leaning into examine the page more closely. He spots his name near the top, along with a ghost from his past.

"...Except, for an incident back in the 70's. You were busted for beating another man unconscious." Ron could now read the police report, the details indeed corresponding to that night many years ago. Taylor looked to the man, waiting for him to explain himself.

"I was young, I never killed no-body," Ron retorted, shrugging. "That guy had been edging me on all night. It was just young guy stuff, it never meant nothing." Ron added. "Besides, I had to do them anger management classes. I finished them." Ron stated his brow furrowing. "That cop told me that would be erased from my record because I was young." He looked to the two detectives questioningly.

Flack looked to Ron with a smile. "That's the thing Ron my friend. Nothing is ever _really _gone, once we dug a little deeper- it was just waiting for us to find it." Ron's smile faded, he was getting the feeling he was not going to like where this was going.

"So Ron, you went all these years without an offence. Then David Forbes comes along. He gets behind on his payments. You find out he is going to file for bankruptcy. He was losing his job; you knew your money was not coming. You confront him--things turn ugly and you strangle him," the older detective looks to Ron expectantly. Ron shakes his balding head, indicating his displeasure.

"I hate to disappoint you boys but I admit I went to see David about money... the previous morning. I knew he would be stopping in to see his horse before work. I asked him to make some payments and he promised they were coming. I said okay and left." Ron looks both detectives over, knowing they do not believe him.

"You telling me that the hand marks left on Forbes neck, marks made by gloved hands, were not yours? We have trace from his neck- of lime and hay dust- that matches the trace on your gloves," explained Flack, seeing for the first time a crack in Ron's unflappable armour he was putting forth.

Ron paused for a moment, bringing his rising anger under control. It would not help his situation to prove that he did indeed have a bad temper.

"Gentlemen, those gloves are left all over the stable. Anyone could have used them to do the dirty on David. It was not me," Ron professed.

"Do you have a means to prove this Mr. Kilner? At the moment, all our evidence points to you as our suspect. Besides the gloves, we also have a traffic video camera that showed your vehicle at 0330 that morning, when you had said you were in bed..."

"Wait, wait. I admit that I had not been truthful about that part," Ron stated, looking down to the table for a moment. "I was out visiting a friend..." Ron added with a shrug. He was suddenly very happy that Annie was not present. Despite the fact that they really only lived together, their marriage was not what he would call full of life, he did not think he could handle Annie blithering on about him cheating.

"At 3:30 in the morning?" Flack asks, doubtfully. After a long pause, the younger detective puts the pieces together. "Let me guess, a lady friend?" Ron nods his head. "Well Ron, you're just a stand up guy," Flack adds, pushing his chair out and feeling the need to pace around again. Ron watched Flack closely as he rose and began walking behind Taylor.

"I was with her till you called me." Ron supplied. "I never saw David that morning. I was not in that stable until you called, Detective Flack," he added. For the first time, Ron began to see the first shred of doubt in the good detectives.

"And what was this lady friends name?" the older detective asked him. Ron knew that as much as these men did not like him, they both were too 'good' of cops; they had to follow the evidence.

"I just know her as Isabelle. I meet at the same spot every second Friday of the month," Ron stated, the younger detective pushing a pad of paper and pen to him.

"Write that address down now," Flack orders, Ron nodding his head quickly before using his handcuffed hands to scribble the address. Flack looks to Taylor dubiously, not convinced that Ron's story was indeed the truth. He had to admit it did put a wrench in their evidence. Ron finishes and pushes the pad back to the detectives. The younger detective reads the address and looks to Ron, then to his partner.

"I will check this out Ron. If you're leading us on, you are not going to enjoy the consequences," Flack states, pointing the pad at Ron accusingly. Ron said nothing as the detective turned and left the room. There was silence as Ron looked to the older detective, trying to determine what would happen now. After several minutes of staring down the detective, Ron finally spoke causing a slight curve to Taylor's lips.

"Now what?" Ron asked, Detective Taylor pulling his papers back into his folder and rising from his chair.

"You wait, Mr. Kilner. An officer will come and book you for the assault charges," the detective stated matter of factly. Ron was about to protest, when Taylor stepped closer and stood threatening over him. "Unlike the murder charges, we can one hundred percent identify that you beat Jenny Logan unconscious," the man's voice was low and his displeasure over being in the same room with him was evident.

"Detective..." Ron began, trying to reason with the older man. Detective Taylor simply turned and made to leave the room. "DETECTIVE!" Ron stated louder, the scraping of his seat causing the detective to turn around quickly. Ron stood up and balled his hands into fists angrily for a moment before releasing them again. "That little wench cost me more money than she was worth," Ron stated, his voice an angry growl. "She is the reason that Forbes owed me a large Vet bill in the first place," he added. After a slight pause, he looked to Taylor, his voice angry. "I _will not _go to jail for roughing her up a little. I gave that girl a job...I got her off the street and under a roof. She owes me big," Ron finished, placing his pointed finger firmly on the table indicating his frustration.

"I suggest Mr. Kilner that you sit down before I perceive your actions as hostile," the detective stated calmly. "For the record, you _will _be going to jail, at the least for assault. As it stands, murder could be added onto that charge," he gave him a hard stare as he turned and left the room.

Ron sat down slowly in the chair. He angrily slammed his fists on top of the table. Despite the fact that he had successfully put reasonable doubt into the cops over David's murder, he was stuck with the assault charge. He sat fuming, wondering when he had lost his ability to scare Jenny into quiet submissiveness. He silently vowed that when he got himself out of this, she would learn her place.

* * *

Stella stood watching as Ron Kilner slammed his fists angrily into the table before taking a seat again. The mirrored viewing pane before her allowed her to see that the man was obviously frustrated. A door opening to her left, followed by a quiet presence at her shoulder let her know it was Mac. There was quiet between them for a few moments before he spoke.

"What do you think?" Mac asked quietly, referring to Ron's apparent alibi. Stella shook her head. Honestly, she did not want to trust him but his story did put forth enough reasonable doubt that Ron did not commit the murder.

"I think I like him even less now," Stella stated, continuing to watch as a uniform entered into the room and took Kilner out to book him. After staring at the empty room for a few seconds, she turned to Mac.

"Stella, I know this guy is less than an upstanding citizen but we have to look at the fact that the evidence has led us in another direction. " Mac states as Stella closes her eyes and rubs the bridge of her nose. Sighing she places her hands on her hips.

"It is possible that one of the many other people Forbes owed money too decided to take things into their own hands. They followed him and jumped him at the stable," Stella surmised. "It also means we have no evidence to put another person there. There was no trace epithelial's inside the gloves; we have no way to identify this other person," Stella looks to Mac, his own gaze informing her he did not have a better answer.

Stella once again turned to face the empty room. She could feel Mac at her side, his arm just barely brushing hers. He had a calming effect on her body and Stella used his presence to bring order to her thoughts, help bring her objectivity firmly into place. Another long sigh and she felt a little better, more centered. Stella turned to Mac.

"Lindsay went to have another look at the evidence, help find Ron's lady friend," Stella said as she rolled her eyes.

"Let's go see what we can do," Mac added. Stella nodded, Mac holding the door open. As they left the observation room, Stella hoped his story turned out to be wrong.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: Sorry for the wait for this chapter, its a little longer than the previous chapters. Enjoy and thanks for your reviews thus far.

* * *

Frustration and exhaustion could be easily distinguished upon entering into Stella's office. Stopping at the threshold of the room, Lindsay watched her friend for a moment. Stella sat staring at her computer monitor, her hand cupping her chin while leaning on her desk. Her shoulders were slumped, indicating her frustration and lending to her fatigue. Stella was never one to let the team see her down; she was their rock and took it quite literally. Hesitating, Lindsay was not looking forward to presenting her findings. Thus far, the evidence was upholding Ron's now convenient alibi.

Deciding to announce her arrival, Lindsay knocked quietly watching as Stella perked immediately and her visibly downtrodden form vanished. Stella swivelled in her chair to face her guest, smiling as she met Lindsay's obviously worried gaze. The olive skinned woman gave Lindsay an encouraging look, trying to convince she was fine.

"Hey Stel," Lindsay greeted as she now entered into her office, coming to a stop beside her friend.

"Lindsay," Stella returned, eyeing the file folder the younger woman held nervously. Stella sighed and looked to Lindsay. "I'm not gonna like what that says am I?" she indicated, Lindsay shaking her head.

"Sorry Stella. Ron's lady friend, Isabelle, corroborated his story. Danny's looking into her financials; see if he paid her off or something..." Stella took the file from her colleague, placing it on her desk and browsing through it casually. Sighing once again, she closed the folder.

"I still don't believe it. There has to be something else we can use to get this guy," Stella leaned back in her chair tiredly as Lindsay rounded her desk and took up residence in a chair.

Silence passed between them as theories rattled through both their heads. Theories they had already posited several times but if they looked at them one more time, perhaps it just might lead to their 'smoking gun'. The melody of the lab drifted to them-the array of sounds that was the lab comforting in the fact that it was always present. Daylight was now streaming through the windows attesting to the fact that night had long since passed.

Stella knew that realistically, the whole team needed sleep and would get it soon, if she had anything to do about it. Stella could not rest now, not when it seemed they were so close. She needed this to be finished. At least if her teammates were able to get sleep, it would make Stella feel better. It would not be the first time she had stayed longer than everyone else to get the job done; especially for the cases that became passionate to her. Mac did it quite frequently himself.

Sitting forward, Stella stared down at the file folder for a moment before pulling out a piece of paper. Pushing her unruly hair behind her ear, she looked up to Lindsay with determination.

"Okay, let's go over again what we know. What the evidence tells us," Stella stated, watching as Lindsay pushed her chair closer to her desk. Recognizing her effort to start at the beginning again, to try to see if they had missed some connection or trivial piece of evidence.

"Alright," Lindsay agrees. "Well, the 911 call is placed by Jenny at 4:15am that morning. She stated that upon hearing a commotion from the horses she went into the barn finding our vic, David Forbes. Jenny reported not hearing anything suspicious before that. No shouting or fighting." Lindsay paused as she went over information in her head, watching as Stella scrawled the information on her paper. "I examined her apartment; it was built on the outside of the main barn on top of the feed room. Noise was very muffled, so what evidence we collected supported her statement," Lindsay added.

"Sid found very little on the body. No evidence that our vic fought off the attacker, which makes us assume he knew the person or at least did not feel threatened from them."Stella stated. Lindsay nodded in agreement. "We have the bruising on the neck from Forbes being strangled, no prints on the body. A couple flannel fibres were found, as well as horsehair matched to his horse, Oscar." Stella paused for a moment and then shook her head. "Nothing spectacular that's for sure," Stella added.

"I collected many..._many_..."Lindsay emphasized with a small smile, "prints off the stall door latches. Oscar's door latch had three sets of prints on it- the vic, Jenny's and Ron's. From the order of the prints, Forbe's prints were on top indicating that he was the last one who opened the door," Lindsay stated. "That means that he was killed after already being in the stall."

"When Flack called the stable owner, Ron now states he was with Isabelle. The place where he stated they meet is more than 45 minutes across town so if Ron was really with Isabelle, that means he could not have killed Forbes. There simply is not enough time to get back to the stable. The traffic camera that caught his car at 3:30am placed his vehicle about 20 minutes from his rendezvous site," Stella returned, frowning for a moment. Her face then lit up, a smile gracing her features. "Lindsay, Flack called Ron on his cell phone. We should be able to determine where he was at the time of the call. The closest cell tower should help us narrow down his location," Stella stated, feeling a little hopeful. A smile also lifted the corners of Lindsay's mouth.

"That's right," Lindsay replied, suddenly feeling silly for not thinking of that earlier. "Also, when Danny found that video he did say that it was hard to distinguish who was driving the vehicle--what if it was not him? What if it was all part of the plan?" Lindsay stated, the hopeless feeling beginning to recede. Stella stopped her shorthand and looked to the list of information they had already accumulated.

"Okay, well this makes a good theory. Now we need proof," Stella indicated, reading through the information. The older woman looked to her younger friend; the fatigue that had been present in Lindsay's features had slipped away at the prospect of this new information. Her shoulder length hair had been pulled back; she had obviously taken the time to freshen up. Wistfully, Stella thought about her own appearance, wondering if perhaps she should visit the locker room at least for a shower. The detective had done little to take care of herself in the last 24 hours. Lindsay's voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

"Assuming the cell phone can give us his location, we still need to tie him to the body. Ron's gloves did match the lime and Hay dust trace collected off the vic's neck. "Lindsay paused for a moment, looking to Stella ruefully. "I went over those gloves very carefully Stella and I did not find anything," the young woman reported, her facial expression suddenly unsure, no doubt starting to blame herself for possibly missing something. Stella gave her friend a reassuring smile.

"Go over them again Lindsay. There has to be a piece of Forbe's somewhere on those gloves. A fresh look may be what you need," Stella added. The shrill ring of Stella's phone interrupted the silence that had settled between them.

"Bonasera," Stella stated into her phone. "Mac," the older woman said in greeting to her partner. A frown quickly adorned her features, her optimistic attitude dissipating.

"_Stella, Kilner made bail. He is out; apparently, he used his charm to sway the judge that he was not a flight risk. He left 30 minutes ago." Mac's voice was low and angry. _

"Mac, how does a guy accused of beating a girl unconscious get that option?" Stella asked angrily, trying not to focus her anger on Mac. She knew it was not his fault.

"_I don't have a good answer for you Stella. He has been ordered to stay at his residence and stay away from Jenny," Mac indicated. _

"Mac, that's not gonna stop him from seeing her," Stella responded, knowing that the young woman's worst fear could be coming true. Lindsay gave Stella a worried glance, picking up the conversation from the pieces she was hearing.

"_I know Stella. I already called hospital security and they are aware he is not allowed on the premises. They will call NYPD if he is spotted or apprehended." Mac stated, knowing that this was doing nothing to stop either of them from worrying. There was a pause on Stella's end and for a moment, Mac thinking his partner had hung up. _

"Mac, I have to go warn Jenny." Stella responded, already rising from her chair.

"_Keep me updated Stella," Mac indicated, Stella knowing that he was warning her not to do anything stupid. _

"I will Mac," Stella replied quickly before hanging up. Looking to Lindsay, Stella threw her hands up frustrated. "Ron made bail. I have to go see Jenny," Stella explained as she pulled her jacket on, securing her weapon in its holster. As she started out of her office, Lindsay followed.

"Lindsay I want you to find those phone records and have a look at those gloves again. Have Danny take a second look at that traffic camera footage," Stella ordered, giving Lindsay a reassuring look before heading purposely down the hall. Watching as her friend disappeared around the corner; Lindsay tried to ignore the nervous feeling in her stomach.

* * *

Jenny Logan could not remember when she had felt so bored. Staring out through the window of her room, cityscape greeted her- the brick wall of a building across the street her only view. Being up several floors meant she could not even watch pedestrian or car traffic. She was resigned to people watching through the door that exited into the hospital floor. Down the hall, she could hear the nurse's desk, the sounds of phones and people drifting in. She watched as several nurses walked about, obviously busy. Her nurse had already visited assuring everything was looking fine. The blonde haired young woman who looked no older than herself had then appeared with a breakfast tray, encouraging her to eat. Jenny's questions about her discharge had been politely rebuffed by the nurse, not that she really had anywhere to go.

Jenny looked down at her cereal, swishing it around in its bowl for a moment before again setting her spoon down. Her appetite was definitely suffering; she had no desire to eat. She had at least tried the muffin but ended up discarding it in the garbage. Looking up from her tray, Jenny watched as a middle-aged man who appeared to be a security guard nodded to her before parking himself outside her door. Jenny looked around helplessly, the guard remaining in place outside her door. Her heart rate jumped a few degrees, her mind going into over drive wondering why the sudden need for someone to watch her door.

The blonde haired nurse then entered into the room, nodding to the balding man as she passed. Noting Jenny's increased apprehension, she smiled reassuringly.

"The security guard has been ordered by the NYPD," the young woman explained, "From what I understand, it is a precaution only," she stated, while maintaining her smile. She indicated to her tray and Jenny shook her head, she was not hungry. The nurse took the tray and left, leaving Jenny with an increasing sense of worry in the pit of her stomach.

Deciding to try to take her mind off the guard, Jenny's thoughts returned to the night before. Her fingers gently felt around her face, her right eye not quite the size it had been initially. The swollen size made the eye sore and useless for the moment. The laceration to her forehead had steri-strips in place, the cuts to her hands requiring little more than time to heal properly. Her plaster cast was heavy and itchy, but it no longer held the reminders from her attack. The doctor had used blue wrap to brighten the cast but it did not make the prospect of having it on for six weeks any more inviting.

Jenny's thoughts returned to the detective, Stella, from the night before. The decision to call her had been one of desperation. After all, she barely knew the woman but something about her had reassured that the detective could be trusted. The fact that she had recognized that even though Jenny was unwilling to admit it, being left alone had been a daunting thought. There had been little conversation; Jenny had been unwilling to discuss anything, which Stella apparently understood because she had not pushed. The memories had been too fresh to discuss then, even now, she was not looking forward to that discussion. When she had eventually fallen into her medication-induced slumber, the attack had haunted her dreams and had mixed with demons from her past-- making her dreamscape an awful mix of her worst memories. Consciousness had been a welcome reprieve.

For the first time, Jenny began to wonder what she would do now. She no longer had a place to live or a job. Her finances were meagre, scraped together from what little she had been paid by Ron. It left her with very little options. Looking down at her hands nervously, Jenny wondered if she would finally have to return to Vermont. It was not home any more but she knew that jobs were available if needed. People would hire her. Pushing away memories that Jenny was unwilling to think about now--memories that would send her mental control toppling over. As it was, control was not a word she would associate with her present frame of mind.

The word brittle came to mind she thought morosely, going over the injuries to her hands in detail. Once again, her memory began to betray her, pulling her back into the previous night's event when a knock at the door interrupted their unwanted intrusion.

Jenny was surprised to see a familiar face staring back at her apprehensively, the older woman's brown eyes seeking her out to make eye contact. Ruth Kilner looked dubiously to the large security guard at the door.

"Is it okay if I come in?" Ruth asked, looking to both Jenny and the guard. The man gave Jenny a questioning look, silently asking if this woman was allowed in. Jenny simply shrugged her shoulders, indicating she may enter. Ruth smiled graciously, entering into the room slowly. She held a small bouquet of flowers in her hands, which she placed on Jenny's bedside table.

"I know you like daisies," Ruth stated, giving Jenny a sorrowful look. Jenny simply nodded, unsure of the older woman's intentions.

Ron's wife was a sweet woman; Jenny had always felt comfortable around her. Ruth had often brought Jenny baked goods and offered to wash her clothes on occasion—she had a much better personality than her husband did. It was obvious that it had been her way of trying to make up for Ron's ill-mannered behaviour. As Jenny watched the brown haired woman sit down at her bedside, it was easy to sense the unease. For the first time, Jenny felt uncomfortable with the woman she had considered a grandmother figure.

"What do you want Ruth?" Jenny finally asked after a minute of silence. Ruth's gaze rose from the bed linen to Jenny's face taking in the young woman's battered face. Jenny found the older woman's eyes filled with regret. Ruth stared at Jenny a few moments longer before attempting to speak, her voice only a whisper.

"I'm sorry," she stated simply, her gaze now moving down to her own hands. They were clenched around her purse, playing with the strap. "I never thought he would hurt you like that," she continued, once more looking up to Jenny. The older woman awaited her counterpart to react, to offer a comment but instead Jenny remained silent. Her silence caused Ruth to begin to ramble on.

"I...I knew Ron had anger issues. I also knew he went to see...see that hooker once a month," Ruth continued, knowing that her husband would be surprised to hear that information. She was not as clueless as he thought.

"And I knew that he did not treat you very well..."Ruth added, her mind drifting back to all the times Ron had returned home complaining about the young woman's work. "I'm not sure why you stayed around as long as you did...I suppose probably for the same reasons I have." Ruth stated with a sad smile, now noting that Jenny's gaze was misty eyed and boring into the wall opposite them.

"Jenny..." Ruth finally stated, closing her eyes for a moment to gather her thoughts and stop her rambling, "I wanted to tell you that when I leave here I am going to the police department. I will give them whatever information they need to arrest Ron...." Ruth's voice failed her for a moment, allowing a small tear to trail down her cheek. "I know he killed David that night..."her voice became thick with emotion and Ruth had to gather herself again.

"That man is not the one I married and I am tired of ignoring his behaviour...or rather condoning it," Ruth finished, tightly reining in her emotions, not wanting to over-burden Jenny. The older woman was surprised when Jenny's hand covered her own. Ruth looked up to Jenny, finding understanding in her facial features.

"Thank you," Jenny replied quietly, unwilling to give voice to her full emotions behind Ruth's confession. It was hard to fathom that Ruth had put up with Ron treating Jenny so rotten but then the older woman had lived with that for many years. It was hard to be angry with a woman that was so honestly admitting _what_ her husband was; especially when Ruth was the epitome of a law-abiding citizen.

A silence settled between them again, neither party sure of what to say next. The tapping of high-heeled shoes alerted them to the presence of another person, interupting their chance for further discussion.

"Jenny...everything alright?" Jenny looked up to find Stella looking worriedly at her from the doorway. Her hand was hovering at her hip, no doubt close to her weapon. Jenny could see Stella trying to determine if she as okay with the situation.

"I'm alright," Jenny responded quietly, watching as Stella entered into the room appraising the older woman sitting at her bedside. Ruth eyed the badge on Stella's hip and smiled at the curly haired detective.

"You must be the detective that helped Jenny out. Thank you," Ruth stated as she rose from the chair, clutching her purse nervously again. Stella watched the older woman, sensing her anxiety and feeling that something else was going on. Looking to Jenny, Stella could see that she sat rigidly with her hands playing with the bed linens.

"You are?" Stella asked suspiciously, the older woman smiling for a moment. Despite the fact that Jenny's mystery guest did not appear to be a threat, years of experience had taught her to count no one out when it came to threat assessment.

"I have the dubious pleasure of being Mrs Ruth Kilner," the older woman replied quietly, her facial features turning sombre. Stella looked to Jenny again, seeking confirmation of the information. She inclined her head slightly, indicating it was correct.

"Detective, before you begin asking questions about Ron, I want you to know that I came here only to tell Jenny I would testify against my husband. I also have information regarding David's death," Ruth stated, resolutely setting her shoulders and hardening her resolve for what she had to do. Seeing the look the detective was giving her Ruth continued. "Before you judge detective, just remember you do not know the whole story. Ron was a good soul once," she explained. The woman looked as if she would continue but emotion took hold for the moment, forcing her to cut short her explanation.

"Well Mrs Kilner, any information you can provide us will be most helpful," Stella stated, keeping her voice professional and giving the woman credit for doing the right thing. Ruth nodded, thankful for Stella's response.

"I will contact an officer to pick you up and take you to the precinct to collect your statement," Stella added, Ruth nodding in agreement. Turning to the door, she opened her cell phone to contact Mac.

Ruth turned to Jenny, who was unsure of how to feel over the turn of events. It felt like she was still on some terrible emotional roller coaster with no end. Ruth's visit felt like it was the last crack in a very weak foundation, which left it threatening to crumble from under her.

"Take care of yourself Jenny." Ruth offered, giving the young woman a smile and squeezing her hand encouragingly for a moment. Jenny was glad when Stella returned to her bedside; the emotional turmoil that Ruth was radiating was suffocating. She felt like she was drowning and needed a reprieve from the emotions that had been thrust into her lap.

"The security officer will escort you to meet the police officer," Stella explained, Ruth smiling before exiting quickly past them with the guard walking closely behind her.

Silence filled the room as Stella turned to Jenny. The young woman sat examining her hands, her unease evident.

"You okay?" Stella asked, looking to the flowers sitting on the table. Jenny shook her head, for once expressing her discomfort with the situation. What was it she had been calling her self control prior to her surprise guest—brittle? That was about how Jenny felt.

"I'm not sure how I should feel. Ruth pretty much just admitted to knowing Ron hurt me but did nothing about it," Jenny responded quietly. "I can't blame her though because I put up with his behaviour, I could have left at any time the same as her."

"She is taking a stand now and that takes courage. The same as you did," Stella reassured, watching as Jenny looked up from her hands. Seeing that she was unconvinced, Stella continued. "Jenny, all you can do is worry about the future. The past is the past-- you cannot change it. You have to deal with what is in front of you in order to move forward," Stella added, watching for her response.

Jenny shrugged her shoulders disheartened, truth was that had been the problem most of her life. She was so concerned with the past that she could not deal with the future. "How do I do that? I don't know if I can," Jenny replied truthfully, causing Stella to smile wholeheartedly.

"With help," Stella answered, giving Jenny's shoulder a squeeze.


	11. Chapter 11

First impressions were important to Mac Taylor; they allowed an important insight into the inner workings of a person. It was true as the saying goes, that first impressions were everything. He had seen them all in his line of work-- from the person that displayed their impersonal mask hiding all their inner feelings to the person who openly displayed who and what they were thinking. Of course, there was every type in between. As Mac stood studying the older woman who sat on the opposite side of the glass, his first impression was that this was the first time this woman had been anywhere near a police station. Mrs. Kilner was restless but waiting patiently for someone to take her statement. Her nervousness was obvious.

Mac had been surprised when he had received the call from Stella that Ron Kilner's wife was willing to testify against her husband. Suddenly, the case had not seemed as bleak. Mac recalled his conversation with his partner.

_"Mac ,I have Ron Kilner's wife here and she states she has information on our case," Stella stated, sounding distracted. _

_"Kilner's wife? How did she get into the picture?" Mac asked confused, knowing that other than cursory questioning the woman had not said anything when interviewed at her home. In fact, she had denied any knowledge of her husband's whereabouts that night stating she thought he had been asleep on the couch. _

_"She was here at the hospital visiting Jenny. I need you to send a uniform to pick her up here at the hospital," Stella instructed, her tone was all business and her conversation was short; she was obviously preoccupied with something else. _

_"Sure Stella, I will get Flack to send someone over," Mac replied, dead air filling his phone for a moment. "Stella, everything okay?" Mac asked, concerned over Stella's lack of focus on the conversation. He had thought she would be happier at her news. The wife could be what they needed to put Ron in jail. _

_"Yeah..."Stella then returned her attention to her partner, "Yeah Mac. I just was not sure of the situation when I came in to find someone with Jenny," Stella answered truthfully. "Listen, I have to go."_

_"Yeah, okay. Make sure the security officer remains at Jenny's room," Mac instructed. "Just in case. Ron is still out on bail for now," Mac reminded, knowing Stella needed no help in that area. _

_"On it Mac. See you later," Stella replied quickly before hanging up. Mac closed his phone, brushing away his concern for Stella. His partner was more than capable of taking care of herself; this was certain. Mac knew though, that Stella Bonasera had a bad habit of ignoring those inner feelings that had a habit of popping up in situations like these. Feelings and emotions from any number of scenarios that had happened to his partner. Feelings that had an impact on her mental well-being but for the moment, her entire focus was on closing the case and helping Jenny. _

Mac realized his attention was wondering when he noted Flack had entered into the interrogation room unnoticed. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he admitted to himself that he was tired...very tired in fact. As he watched Flack begin introductions, Mac thought of Stella once more. The detective knew that once this was over, he was going to have to assess delicately her emotional status. The last thing he would call Stella was fragile but he knew his partner was an expert at telling everyone she was okay.

Deciding he was ready to enter, Mac left the observation room and quietly opened the interrogation room door. Upon entering, Flack silently nodded while Kilner's wife looked him over uncertainly.

"Ma'am, this is Detective Mac Taylor. He works with crime scene investigation." Mrs. Kilner gave Mac a sad smile; he could clearly see the pain written in her features. This was painful, to be here to turn her own husband into the authorities. Mac could tell that this had been a hard decision for her, understandably so.

"Mr. Taylor," the older woman answered in greeting politely. Mac simply nodded and took a seat beside Don. The younger detective took this as cue to begin the questions. They had been waiting long enough for the answers to their questions.

"So Mrs. Kilner..."

"It's Ruth. Please." The older woman interrupted, causing Flack to smile slightly annoyed. "Of course if you asked my husband, he would say Annie. That was my given name but I prefer my middle name--Ruth," she explained, a wan smile appearing. Her husband whom she was turning over to the police and had been the only one she allowed to use her birth name; the smile quickly died. Ruth tightly closed her mouth, realizing she was rambling and disclosing unimportant information. This was why Ron never let her talk.

Flack could not blame the woman for not wanting to be associated with her husband at the moment.

"Right, Ruth," Don began again, consulting his file folder and then looking up to the older woman. "Detective Bonasera said you have some information regarding David Forbes murder?" The older woman looked from her hands to the young detectives face. She smiled sadly once again.

"Unfortunately I do," she replied slowly. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes for a moment. Ruth pushed away any doubt about what she was going to do. Ignored the thought of the yelling and screaming Ron would do when he found out. "Gentlemen, I know that Ron told you he went to see that _hooker_," Ruth almost spat the word out, "and he has gone to see her every second Friday of the month for years now...except for that night. Ron asked me to drive his car across town and meet someone to give them money," Ruth explained, pausing for a moment.

"He was giving himself an alibi." Flack stated, earning a glare from Ruth. Apparently, she did not like to be interrupted.

"You did not question going out at 3:30 in the morning?" Mac asked, Ruth shrugging her shoulders slightly and looked to him with a wistful smile. The lines around her eyes furrowed as she frowned, the aging marks making her look older than she was. This experience alone, adding several no doubt.

"He is my husband. I knew he had anger issues, I knew he had infidelity issues but I never dreamed he could kill a person...or hurt Jenny like he did," the woman answered truthfully. "Honestly, that night I thought I was repaying money he had borrowed from this guy. Until I got there and saw the _he_ was a _she_. I very quickly got the picture," Ruth continued, anger slipping into her voice.

"What happened?" Flack asked, Ruth's anger over coming her for a moment.

"I turned around and left. The hell if I was giving that tramp any of our hard earned money," Ruth answered quickly, her voice rising slightly. "That was when I knew something was up. And I had every intention of bringing it up with Ron when I returned home," Ruth continued, her gaze going far away for a moment. She thought of the anger she had felt returning home to find the house empty.

"But he was gone when you got home? Right?" Flack asked, causing Ruth to return her attention to the detective's in front of her. She nodded slowly. The younger detective's eyes held some sympathy for her, which did little to make Ruth feel better.

"Ron was gone and I did not hear from him until he returned that morning, telling me about David being murdered at the stable. He didn't even ask me if I delivered the money...He was distracted and a little anxious," Ruth supplied, as she watched the detectives. The older detective, Mac, watched her quietly.

"Mrs. Kilner, did Ron ever say anything to you about David owing money?" Mac asked, Ruth pausing for a moment before nodding her head.

"Yeah. Ron had been going on about David being behind on board payments and he still owed for the vet fees. Ron had said he was going to talk to him... to at least get a partial payment. We had bills to pay as well," Ruth explained. "I never thought he would do what he did," Ruth added, looking to her hands.

"You mean murder the guy?" Flack replied, seeing Ruth was having trouble admitting her husband was a murderer. At his words, her gaze met his with her mouth held into a tight line. Her eyes were moist.

"How did you know that your husband did it?" Mac asked, watching as her gaze shifted from Flack to him.

"His eyes," she responded slowly. "His eyes were nervous. Ron was a man that never displayed emotion. His eyes were always hard and cold—except on very rare occasions. He never used to be that way but his eyes gave himself away that morning. I could see that he was guilty."

Silence settled into the room for several long moments. The detectives watched as emotions took over the older woman finally, several tears running down her cheeks and dropping onto the table. They let the silence stay, allowing Ruth a few moments to come to terms with her feelings. Don offered the older woman a Kleenex, which she took graciously. Both knew as professionals that sometimes silence was the best interviewing tool at their disposal. It could be used to allow the person time to think things over or to encourage someone to keep talking. Many times, a person would begin talking to get away from the silence.

"I thought about not doing anything. He is my husband after all," Ruth began again, her voice now husky with emotion. "I could not however leave Jenny. She has worked hard over the last two years and Ron has done nothing but give her hell. I could not stand the thought that he hurt her. I could not live with myself if I did nothing," Ruth answered, quickly wiping a tear away before it fell.

"Well Mrs. Kilner, with your testimony we can now bring Ron in on these charges again and he will have to wait in jail until his trial," Mac stated, rising from his chair. Ruth simply nodded her head; the simple action was all she could muster. She felt emotionally spent for the moment.

"Ruth, do you know where your husband is?" Flack asked, hoping that the guy was not smart enough to hide. He had very little patients to go around playing guessing games at this stage of the game.

"I would guess he is at the racetrack. That is where he goes every Friday. I don't imagine he would have changed his plans," Ruth replied quietly.

"Thank you Mrs. Kilner. Detective Flack will take you to fill out some paper work," Mac supplied, Don also rising beside him.

"One more thing Detectives," Ruth stated as she rose and reached down into her large handbag. "I think you may want this. I do not know if this means anything or not but Ron threw this hat in the garbage. He won this hat at a rodeo in his twenty's—he would not throw it away under normal circumstances," Ruth indicated, handing Mac what appeared to be a cowboy hat covered in a plastic bag. Mac cautiously brought a glove out of his pocket and took the hat from Mrs. Kilner. He nodded appreciatively.

"We appreciate your help Mrs. Kilner," Mac replied honestly.

Turning he left the older woman behind, heading purposefully for the Lab. Hopefully he held in his hand their 'smoking gun', referring to Lindsay's term she had used many cases ago. As Mac headed for the elevators, he pulled out his phone. Quickly hitting the speed dial button, Stella's phone began ringing.

_"Bonasera," she answered after one ring. _

"Stella--Flack and I just finished talking with Kilner's wife. She gave us another piece of evidence to process—a cowboy hat that apparently Ron loved and threw away. I am heading up to the lab now to hand it off to Danny and Lindsay," Mac stated, moving into the elevator car as the doors opened.

"_That's good Mac. Is Flack going to pick up Ron again?" his partner asked worried. She was still understandably concerned Ron would attempt to hurt Jenny again. _

"Flack is on his way. His wife thinks he is at the racetrack. Hopefully, Flack will find him there," Mac replied as he exited the car as it opened onto the lab. The sounds of the lab overtook their conversation for a moment until he entered into his office.

_"He better or Flack is going to be pissed. He already brought the guy in once already," Stella returned with a smile, Mac could tell by the tone of her voice. It was nice to know that she had relaxed, even if only a little. _

"How are things on your end?" Mac asked, coming to halt in front of his desk and eyeing the large pile of paperwork that still needed his attention. Pushing those thoughts aside for the moment, he focused on Stella's reply.

_"Okay, I'm gonna head back soon. Call me if you need me," Stella answered. _

"Okay Stella. Bye," Mac ended the conversation, quickly closing his phone. Mac turned and looked out at the lab, his lab. He watched as various personnel walked the halls, everyone busy with their own assigned tasks. Mac could not help but be proud of his team. His top team was hopefully well on their way to solving the Forbes case. His other teams were holding the fort with the many other cases handled by the crime lab, leaving them the job of getting Ron in jail.

Looking down at the cowboy hat that he still held in one gloved hand, Mac once again went on the move. Leaving his office, he headed for the layout room where Danny was most likely to be. Before he made it to the room, his characteristic accent floated down the hall.

"Montana, I'm telling ya—this lady was crazy. C-R-A-Z-Y. Crazy." Danny's voice stated. "I mean, I have seen some wack jobs in my time, but this one—she was out there," he proclaimed, Lindsay's chuckle following his voice down the hall. Mac smiled slightly before entering into the threshold of the room. Danny had a penchant for telling tall tales and Lindsay was always a good audience for him. No one else indulged his stories like Lindsay did. Mac was not blind and he thought their newfound relationship was good for the both of them. Of course, he had seen the sparks flying between them but Stella had been the one who had pointed out that they were good 'together', solidifying they were indeed an item.

"Mac?" Danny said in greeting, as their boss entered into the room. Noting the hat in his hand, he smiled. "You thinking of going Montana on us boss?" the younger man quipped, causing Mac to frown slightly but his eyes sparkled. He did not want to make it too easy on Danny.

"No, Danny," Mac replied, walking past him and placing the hat on the table. In a slightly more jovial mood, Mac may have had a smart-ass reply but he was too tired to care. Danny did not miss the serious tone and knew that it was down to business. "This is Ron Kilner's cowboy hat. His wife brought it in for us," he explained and then indicated Danny. "I want you to process it. There has to be some reason that Kilner threw away his prized hat," Danny nodded.

"No problem boss," Danny replied, already grabbing a new pair of gloves and appraising his new evidence.

Mac turned to Lindsay who held a small triumphant smile on her face.

"Lindsay?" Mac asked, indicating for her spill her news.

"I just called Stella to let her know that I found an epithelial on Ron's gloves. It was a match to David Forbes. It was stuck under a small tear in the glove and there was barely enough to process but it was a match," Lindsay stated happily.

"That's good Lindsay." Mac replied, happy that this case was starting to come together.

"There is more...," Lindsay interrupted. She opened a file folder and handed Mac a report. "This is the cell phone log from Ron's phone. Now it did not have GPS but the closest cell phone tower put him only ten blocks from the stable," Lindsay watched as Mac read over the report, the worry lines on his face easing slightly at the news.

"He was close by. Probably on his way home," Mac surmised, as he handed the file folder back to Lindsay.

"That is my guess," Lindsay announced, looking past Mac to spy on Danny who was engrossed with the cowboy hat. She returned her attention to Mac, who was uncharacteristically staring off into space. "Mac?" asked worriedly, she had been hoping her boss would be happy at the news. With the evidence they now had and his wife's testimony—their evidence was now sound. Stella had been understandably happy at her news.

Mac looked to his colleague and smiled slightly, meant to reassure her.

"I'm fine Lindsay. This is good—you two did well." Mac praised, indicating her and Danny.

"Thanks," Lindsay replied quietly, grateful for the compliment. Mac did not give them out abundantly so they were appreciated when they did happen. "Now what?" Lindsay asked, looking to Mac who appeared lost. She did not know if it was fatigue but her boss was not his usual self.

"Now we wait for Flack to bring him in," Mac stated before leaving. As he exited the layout room and headed for his office, he realized he could see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel. The end was almost in sight and he longed for it. Despite the fact that this case had only spanned several days, it had been intense. It was especially intense for Stella, who had found herself wrapped up in it.

Mac found himself in his office, his mind navigating himself there on autopilot. Mac crossed the small distance to this desk and sat down slowly. As he watched his computer come to life, Mac knew Stella would need some time to debrief after the case—whether she realized that or not.

That was the other job they took almost as seriously as their paid job—taking care of each other. Mac remembered when Stella had proclaimed that, lying outside Don's hospital room. _That's what we do Mac, we take care of each other_, Stella had stated. Unfortunately, the ex-marine thought that Stella did a better job taking care of him then the other way around.

Mac thought back to all the time's Stella had been hurt in the last few years- Frankie, the HIV scare, the fire in her apartment. All times Mac had not been able to save her from being hurt. He knew he could not protect her from the world, Mac just wished he had done a better job of taking care of her. This time, he thought to himself, he would make sure she was okay.

The shrill ring of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts. His hand found his phone without thinking and brought it to his ear.

"Taylor," he stated in the phone, Flack's voice greeting him.

_"Yeah Mac, I wanted to let you know. Kilner's not as dumb as we thought. He's on the run." Flack stated, his voice disappointed. He was tired of this guy and Mac could tell. _

"Thanks Flack. Keep me informed." Mac replied, feeling his slightly improved mood dissipating.

_"You bet Mac. And I already called Stella. She told me to tell you to go home. Mac, it could be a while before we get this guy. Tell your people to go home," Flack offered._

Mac smiled as he envisioned Stella bribing Flack to tell him to go home. "Thanks Don," Mac stated, closing his phone. Once again, Mac found his gaze watching his computer screen. Feeling his frustration and fatigue, Mac decided that for once he would take her advice. His team needed sleep. And he hoped Stella knew that included her but he would save her for last.

Pulling his landline phone off its cradle, he entered in Danny's number.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. I am hoping the next chapters will come together quicker. Thanks for reading and reviewing! **

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Jenny watched as Stella talked on her cell phone, her back was turned but the younger woman could determine the slight increasing of tension in her shoulders. The phone call was short and Stella quickly returned her attention to Jenny. Stella smiled, trying to be reassuring.

"I was just talking to one of my colleagues, it seems that when they went to pickup Ron he was not around," Stella informed Jenny, who nodded solemnly.

"Do I have to stay here?" Jenny asked, looking around her hospital room dejectedly. The last thing she wanted was to be confined any longer in the dry, antiseptic smelling environment. As much as she gazed out the windows, it did little to settle the hint of claustrophobia that was starting to set in.

Stella smiled at her remark, apparently anticipating her question and not forgetting the fact that she had bypassed her comment about Ron. The detective shook her head.

"The doctor says that you are fine, no side effects from the concussion. When you are ready to go, he will discharge you with a follow up appointment for your cast," Stella explained, watching as Jenny's gaze settled on her for a minute before returning to her hands. Silence followed for a few moments before Stella decided to bring up the subject the younger woman had been sidestepping.

"Listen, I know that you could not talk about it last night, but it is important that I get your statement for what happened," Stella stated, Jenny's gaze immediately meeting Stella's. Her eyes were hard, trying to push away the fresh flood of emotions threatening to break through.

"I know," Jenny replied simply. She continued to meet the detective's gaze. Jenny made to speak but her voice failed her, swallowing she attempted again. "I never did get the chance to thank you," she added. "I did not have anyone else to call...," Jenny stated in explanation. Stella remained quiet, watching the younger woman as it appeared she would continue to speak. She opened her mouth but then closed it tightly, shutting her eyes and looking to be trying to push unwanted memories away.

"That's okay. I am glad you felt you could call me," Stella interjected, sitting on the edge of the bed. Jenny sat with her knees drawn to chin, ignoring the stab of pain from her protesting ribs. "You recognized the trouble you were in and took action. It took courage and was not easy," Stella stated, taking stock of the young woman sitting before her.

Jenny's face was now several shades of purple, her right eye not as swollen- the pupil just peeking out between the lids. The laceration to her forehead had required a couple stitches, the other cuts to her face and hands only minor. There angry red color an indication of the recent injuries. Jenny was hiding it well but the twinge that presented itself on her features when she moved gave away the discomfort from her ribs. Her casted arm hung in its sling, the blue wrap in contrast to the white of the sling.

"You are used to taking care of yourself. Putting that trust in someone else is hard," Stella added after a moment, Jenny's head rising abruptly at her comment.

"It is, really hard...," Jenny agreed, sensing that Stella had a keen understanding of the topic herself. "Its instinct, I don't want to be hurt again," she explained, her curiosity now peeked. A smile graced Stella's lips for a moment.

"I know, trust me," Stella insisted, the conviction in her words forcing Jenny to believe that the older woman spoke the truth. Jenny had talked to many councillors, psychologists and psychiatrists in her youth—all of them had said those same words but Jenny had never believed them. She had been able to tell by their eyes. They did not have the same shadows creeping inside, the same ghosts incorporating themselves into every facet of their life. Jenny looked into Stella's eyes and could see those things. She could see understanding there.

"I do," Jenny replied quietly, startling Stella. The curly haired woman had not intended to receive a response. Quickly pushing away her surprise, Stella gave Jenny a warm smile. Placing her hand on the younger woman's shoulder, she squeezed. Stella knew that Jenny's admission was not to be taken lightly.

"I'm honoured," Stella answered simply. "And I promise I will do what I can to help you get through this."

"Thanks," Jenny replied, her gaze now falling to her hands again. She once again noted the several cuts that adorned them, a reminder of her reason for being in this situation.

"No problem kiddo," Stella stated, noting her change in demeanour. Jenny knew where the conversation was heading. Shifting uncomfortably and deciding to straighten her legs out, Jenny took it upon herself to begin the dialogue of events.

"It started because he thought I had told the police something," Jenny began, her hands nervously playing with the blankets on her bed. "He wanted to know why you guys had come back around asking about business records and such," Jenny explained. "I had no idea why he was so concerned but I knew something was up, he had been acting all nervous from the moment I found David." Jenny stopped, going over events in her head and trying to piece them together into conversation.

"He confronted me and pushed me against the wall...," her voice faded off for a minute, her hand reaching to her neck and touching it gently, "he held his hand at my throat and my broken arm above me. He just kept rambling, which is so unlike Ron. Eventually he sees that I have no clue what he is talking about...and...He just smiled at me. Called me stupid," Jenny paused for a moment, swallowing hard.

"He thought you knew he had killed David," Stella supplied, Jenny nodding in agreement, pulling her from her thoughts. The younger woman's eyes were moist; she rubbed at them for a moment before continuing with her story.

"Right. Then he got really angry with himself for letting the cat outta the bag. Ron said some pretty nasty things to me and then just started beating on me. He punched me until I fell to the floor and then landed a few kicks to my ribs. Things get fuzzy after that...I remember crawling to Oscar's stall and then phoning you," Jenny finished, looking up to Stella.

Jenny distinctly remembered the helpless feeling paralyzing her as she realized that Ron was overpowering her. She had fought back but the bigger man had the physical advantage. Even as the punch was coming towards her face, Jenny had thought she would be able to get away. She had always told herself she would be able to defend herself from an attacker. Jenny remembered struggling against his grip, his meaty hand holding her fast against the wall. The dizzying sensation as his fist connected with her face. The absurd observation that Ron had been drinking, the stench of beer overtaking her as his attack intensified.

"Did Ron actually say to you that he killed David Forbes?" Stella asked hopefully.

"He did not actually say those words but there was no misinterpreting his meaning." Silence followed, the background noises from the corridor outside the room the only interruptions. Jenny's mind replayed the events, as if it was stuck in a time loop. Realizing her attention had wondered she looked to Stella who encouraged her to continue. Shaking her head slowly, Jenny tried banishing the thoughts that seemed to be cascading nonstop. Closing her eyes and rubbing her head, Jenny began to feel weighed down by her thoughts.

"I thought I was gonna die again." Jenny stated softly, her gaze drifting off, unfocused. Stella watched the woman, getting the feeling that she was not just referring to her situation with Ron.

"Jenny?" Stella inquired after several moments of her unfocused gaze. Jenny looked surprised as she looked to Stella, remembering their conversation. She did her best to pull herself back to reality.

"Sorry...," Jenny answered simply, a wry smile gracing her lips. She hoped that Stella would just leave her last comment alone; it had slipped out by accident. Jenny really did not want to discuss why she felt that way. She should have known better, she was talking to a detective.

"Again?" Stella asked. "Did Ron attack you before? I am assuming he was the cause of your broken arm—how many times has he done this?"

The questions hung in the air, seeming to taunt Jenny. She suddenly felt overwhelmed, Jenny knew that Stella was only concerned but it was too much. Feeling the need to escape, even if just to other side of the room Jenny rose and decided to stand in front of the window. Recognizing her need to move away, Stella remained sitting on the bed. Looking down the several floors below to the street traffic, Jenny found her mouth suddenly forming words of its volition. Her brain was saying no but it was as if it had no connection to her mouth.

"I left Vermont because my family was killed in a fire when I was 12," Jenny started, letting those words hand in air for a moment. Stella watched the younger woman intently, getting the sense that Jenny was disclosing information she kept tightly sheltered away.

"A forest fire was heading towards our farm; we were checking the stock before we left. We had about 100 head of dairy cows and about 20 horses, various other livestock for pleasure. We were not a huge operation by any standard but my parents managed to keep it afloat." Jenny paused, watching as a mother and father doted on their three young children. Pushing the lump that had formed away, she had to force the words to continue.

"The wind pushed the fire around and it overtook us. Everywhere you looked, flames were enveloping anything and everything. I will never forget the sounds of the livestock as the fire hit the barns; their screams of torture—being burned alive...," again, Jenny stopped, this time a slight shaking of her shoulders was discernable from behind by Stella. Her hands were gripping the windowsill ferociously, her knuckles white. "The hardest part...the hardest part was when my Daddy told me to run. He was stuck inside the main barn, he told me to run away. Just get away from the flames."

"So I ran. I started back to the house, but by that time the flames had already attacked it. My Mom and little brother were in there...,"Jenny stopped, clearing her throat and biting her lip to keep from tearing up. Her memories were dragging her mind back all those years, the sights and sounds of the fire overtaking her brain. Stella's sudden quiet presence at her side helped to draw her back to reality, the memories fading slightly as the detective's voice broke up the silence in the room.

"How did you make it out?" Stella asked quietly.

"The cellar, we had a root cellar. My Daddy's words kept me going; I had to find somewhere to go because he had told me so. I stayed in there until it had burned past and then I ran my heart out to the neighbours who were several miles down the road. I thought I was going to die in that hole, the heat had been so intense."

Before Stella could respond, Jenny quickly continued as she wiped a tear from her cheek.

"After that, I lived in foster care and when I was old enough, tried to make a living in my hometown but it was too hard. Everywhere I went my family haunted me. So...I left and I came here...then after several unsuccessful jobs and several weeks on the street I found Ron," Jenny's voice was quiet and Stella could see it was getting hard for her to continue. "You know the rest," Jenny added.

Neither woman was sure what to say. The fact that Jenny trusted Stella with the information from her past was an important step for the young woman. Stella knew it was not easy to tell.

"So, that was my first near death experience. Ron was my second." Jenny then said suddenly.

Stella watched as Jenny continued to avoid eye contact with her. She knew that Jenny was trying to protect herself. The longer she avoided that contact, the longer she could curl into herself and push all her feelings away. Push anyone and anything away- that lesson was learned quickly after you realize no one else cares. She could see her struggling to hold her emotions in, hold the tears back. Letting those emotions flow freely would release her very tightly regulated barriers.

The pair continued to stare out the window, Jenny making no moves to leave and taking comfort in the fact that another person cared enough to remain at her side. It was a pleasurable feeling she had not been privy too in a long time. That thought was enough to threaten her shaky mental walls. Feeling her control slipping, she gripped onto the windowsill tighter.

Sensing that Jenny was beginning to drown in her thoughts, Stella gently touched her arm causing her to look at her wearily.

"Listen, I know this has been tough. You have been through a lot. I want to thank you for trusting me with this information," Stella stated, knowing it had not been a simple gesture.

Nodding her head, Jenny smiled. "It felt good actually," she replied ruefully, her voice barely a whisper. It was obvious that the conversation had sapped what energy she had recovered since the attack. Jenny had to admit to herself, that being able to share her past with another soul made her feel a little better. It had been a long time since anyone had given her the opportunity. Stella gave her a reassuring smile, Jenny knew the older woman understood that it had not been done lightly.

"I have to file your report with Mac. You get some rest." Stella instructed, feeling that Jenny now required some alone time to process her thoughts. Seeing Jenny was about to protest, Stella held up her hand. "Until Ron is apprehended for the short term, I think it is better if you remain here."

Jenny was too tired to put up much of an argument, shrugging her shoulders in begruding agreement. Watching as Stella made to leave, Jenny suddenly felt sad at the prospect of being alone again. Stella turned to face her.

"I will be back soon. If you need anything, just let your nurse know. They have my number." Stella stated, pausing for only a moment before leaving the room.

Jenny looked around her empty room. Finally succumbing to her bodies request for sleep, Jenny climbed into her bed. Slumber found her quickly. As dreams overtook her, Jenny hoped for that a change they would be happy.


	13. Chapter 13

A/N: As promised new chapter quickly! Enjoy.

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Mac Taylor was annoyed. He sat frowning at his cell phone, which sat in the middle of his desk. After convincing Danny and Lindsay to go home he had called Stella, she had not answered his call. In fact, her phone had gone straight to voice mail where he had left a message. That had been two hours ago. Stella always answered her phone; that left him with two options. His partner was purposely avoiding his call knowing full well _why_ he was calling or she was unable to take his call.

Neither scenario made him particularly happy. Mac knew that unless he threatened to call the chief, Stella would not go home. Unfortunately, he had not been able to make contact to follow through with said threat. Mac rubbed his face tiredly, noting the gruff feel of his skin- his five o'clock shadow was creeping up on him.

A soft knock at his door caused the former Marine to lift his gaze from the tauntingly quiet cell phone. A tentative smile greeted him as Adam entered into his office, a file in his hand. The lab tech looked at his superior anxiously, sensing his boss' annoyance.

"Boss, Danny asked me to give this to you when it came back from biometrics," Adam explained, stopping several feet from Mac's desk. The older man sat forward in his chair and waved the younger man closer. Adam obliged, giving Mac the file folder, who opened it and glanced at it with a tired eye. After a moment, he looked up to Adam with a raised brow.

"And?" he asked, watching as Adam gave him a nervous smile before stammering on.

"Well, ah. Danny took the traffic camera footage and managed to get a headshot of the driver of Ron's vehicle. The shot was too bleary to get distinct facial features so he sent it biometrics to see if they could get a profile hit," Adam explained. Mac encouraged him to continue. "Right well, they took measurements of the person's face, determined it was female. They had no matches in in the system. No matches until Ron Kilner's wife was booked. It was definitely her driving the car that morning," Adam finished, watching as Mac nodded his head and placed the file on his desk.

"That corroborates Ruth's story." Mac stated, leaning back in his chair again.

The evidence was continuing to support their hypothesis that Ron was definitely responsible for David Forbes murder. Seeing that Adam remained firmly planted in place, Mac looked up to him noting that the lab tech gave him a worried glance.

"Anything else Adam?"

"Ah...well...ah...you okay boss? I mean this has been a long time..."Again Mac's eyebrow rose questioningly at the lab tech causing Adam to stumble his words worse. "What I mean is you going home soon? You need your rest too boss," Adam finally stated, waiting with bated breath for his superior to tell him to mind his own business. To his surprise, a small smile graced Mac's lips.

"I'm fine Adam." Mac reinforced, watching the relief spread on the young man's face. "I am waiting for Stella, and then I am leaving," he answered. Adam nodded his head, rubbing his hands nervously. Mac kept quiet the small chuckle wanting to leave his throat at Adam's response; he had no doubt been waiting for a different reaction.

"Good," he answered. The lab tech had been worried Mac might go Marine on him, kicking him out of his office. There was a fine line when it came to acceptable non-case conversation with Mac. Adam was not very good at observing it, frequently finding himself crossing it accidently.

"Thank you for your concern Adam," Mac responded with another tired smile. His boss than gave him a familiar look. Taking the hint, Adam smiled.

"Right. Enjoy your afternoon Mac," Adam stated before leaving the office.

Watching Adam leave, Mac focused his attention to his cell phone once again. Picking it up, he toggled the button bringing up Stella's number on speed dial. His thumb remained over the button for a moment, before he decided against it. Stella would not be happy if she thought he was 'hovering'. Standing, Mac put his phone in his pocket. He would give her a little bit longer before calling again.

Mac left his office, deciding to go to the locker room. He could collect his gear in preparation of heading home. Passing through the lab, various personnel greeted him as he made his way through the maze of hallways. Passing the AV room, he saw Adam give him a wave as he passed. Mac nodded to the younger man, smiling despite himself. The lab tech had grown into an important part of the team and Mac was happy to watch him grow into a more confident young man over the last couple of years.

Finding himself at the locker room, he entered his pass code, entering to find it empty. This was not surprising as it was mid shift; no one had any reason to be there. Navigating past rows of lockers, he made his way to the back. Rounding the corner, he stopped to find a slim body hunched over on the bench. Even in the shadows, Mac knew without question who it was. The curls gave it away.

"Stella?" Mac asked, her head rising abruptly at his voice. Her form quickly sat upright.

"Hey Mac," she replied as she rose from the bench. Stretching slightly as she rose, she gave her partner a slight smile. "Just taking a moment," Stella indicated, Mac nodding his head in understanding. His eyes appraised her condition, the slight redness to her eyes and the slightly frazzled look to her indicating her fatigue and stress. Stella once again sat down on the bench, Mac following her with his eyes – watching and logging away her movements and responses.

"I was trying to call you. I sent Danny and Lindsay home. I was waiting to make sure that you were going home too," Mac stated. Stella picked up her cell phone, holding it up for Mac to see.

"Batteries dead," Stella indicated, placing the phone beside her on the bench once more.

Mac nodded, the scenario now making sense. Looking over his partner, Mac could tell that she was working through her emotions. He had known this moment was coming, the current stall in their investigation meant that all the feelings Stella had been ignoring were now plaguing her.

Taking a subtle cue from her, Mac sat down beside his friend, knowing that even though it was not voiced Stella wanted to know he was there for her. Letting her take the lead, Mac was content to remain at her side for the moment.

He quietly contemplated how inadequate the word 'friend' seemed when it came to their relationship. They felt so right together, as if they completed a part of each other. It was a feeling he had felt only with Claire. Even prior to her death, Stella had been an important part of his life. Contrary to popular belief, there was no romantic relationship between them. Mac would not deny that at times, there was chemistry but neither party was willing to act on it. Mac sometimes wondered if it just came from knowing each other so well, both so tired of going through prospective partners and failing. They knew what to expect from each other, no surprises.

After several minutes of companionable silence between them, Mac finally spoke. Gently placing his hand on her arm, he felt her lean into his touch.

"You okay Stella?"

A small laugh escaped her lips, causing Mac to scrutinize her response closely. Feeling his gaze on her, Stella looked up to her friend. A sad smile adorned her features. Her green eyes held doubt.

"I don't know if I can do this anymore...," Stella confided, fixing her eyes on Mac. His brow furrowed at her comment, causing the curly haired woman to shake her head. "I know, never give up," Stella added. She paused for a moment before continuing, a sigh escaping her lips. "You're right, I don't really mean that. I guess I am just letting this case really get to me."

Before Mac could agree and offer his listening ear, Stella uncharacteristically began sharing her feelings without him threatening bodily harm.

"Jenny—she told me about her past. She had it rough Mac. She lost everything in a fire when she was 12, including her family. She was placed in the foster care system and once she was of age; tried making it on her own. Finally, she came here trying to make a new start," Stella paused. "She met Ron after living on the street and dead end jobs, where she finally thought she had made it good. We know how that turned out," she stated bitterly.

"Stella, she is not the first to come to the big city trying to make a new start. You know as well as anyone how many get lost and swallowed up by this city; all with the intentions of making a new life for themselves." Mac supplied. "We see their cases all the time in our line of work."

Stella nodded her head, looking down to her hands. She absently rubbed them together and then massaged her neck tiredly—wishing the kinks that were there would disappear.

"I know Mac," she replied, her tone a little harsher than she intended. Sighing again, she looked up to her partner. His dark eyes held worry, making her feeling guilty because she was the cause. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so angry," she apologized. Mac's hand brushed her shoulders, the weight of his arm settling around her. Stella smiled; she relished her partner's uncommon show of affection. It denoted how worried he was about her; a pang of guilt arose once again.

"Stella, don't apologize. You have been ignoring your feelings about this case since you made contact with Jenny. Tell me what you're feeling, I don't mind listening," Mac insisted, causing Stella to pull herself away from him slightly, her body stiffening as she went on the offensive.

"And you are such a good example of that philosophy," Stella replied, an angry glare to her eye. This time Mac sighed, rubbing his face tiredly before looking to Stella.

"Stella, we are not talking about me. You are not deflecting the conversation to me," Mac declared, giving his friend a knowing look. Stella could not help but smile slightly.

"Obvious eh?" she replied quietly. She did not need to look up to know Mac was watching her.

Silence engulfed them once again, Stella's thoughts returning to the young woman at the hospital. She looked to her hands.

"I see a lot of me in her Mac," Stella finally started. "She has had to take care of herself, forge her living after surviving a tragic accident. She has that same lost look to her, same need to know someone else cares," Stella paused for a moment and looked up to Mac again. "I know what that feels like. Until I went to the academy, I was lost and it was not until I entered the force that I felt like I belonged somewhere. Now I have you. I have Danny, Lindsay, Hawkes, Flack, Sid...even Adam—you guys are all my family. I have people to love and I know they feel that in return. Jenny...well she has no one. I just...I remember how that feels," Stella finished, even in the dim light Mac could see the moisture in her eyes. Rubbing her shoulders lightly with his hand, Mac squeezed her shoulder.

"Stella that is what makes you who you are. That is why you are helping this young woman. You have been there but you have made something of yourself. You are a strong, successful, independent woman. Jenny is lucky she has you fighting for her," Mac stated, seeing the emotions that was running plainly over Stella's face he swallowed hard. "You are a great role model for her," he added, withdrawing his arm.

Stella smiled, her green eyes sparkling. "Thanks Mac. You really are a true friend," she stated, reaching out and squeezing his hand forcefully. Her hand lingered a little longer than needed, wanting to prolong the physical contact that seemed to be so abundant at the moment. Stella then realized how close they sat together, their arms almost touching.

"Always," Mac added, his deep voice resonating in the empty locker room. The pair remained lost in each other's gaze until the creaking sound of the door opening interrupted them. They both looked up as talking voices broke up their asylum from the outside world. As if to reinforce their quiet reprieve was finished, Mac's phone rang.

Mac sighed, pulling the phone from his pocket. "Sorry" he mumbled quietly. "Taylor."

"_Yeah Mac, we have a situation. I tried calling Stella...,"_

"She is with me Don. Her phone's dead," Mac interrupted, giving his explanation.

"_Good. Emergency services got a call from Ron Kilner's residence. There was no one on the line but Ron's voice was obvious in the background," the detective explained._

"You think Ron is home," Mac surmised, watching as Stella waited impatiently to know what the situation was. The fragile look she had about her only moments ago was replaced with the confident, competent detective he knew so well.

"_Yeah, I'm thinking our friend Ruth placed the call. She could be in trouble. This guy got assault and murder charges against him, I'm thinking it ain't a far cry for him to go off on his wife," Don stated, his voice a little breathless as if moving. _

"I agree Don. Where are you at?" Mac asked, rising from his place on the bench.

"_We're just mobilizing a unit. Some uniforms are already on their way but they have been instructed to proceed with caution. I don't want this guy to get the slip again or hurt his wife," Don stated. _

"We are on our way," Mac indicated, quickly snapping his phone shut. Looking to Stella, she gave him a questioning look. "Ron is at his house. 911 received a call; no one on the line but voices in the background identified as Ron," he explained as he started out of the locker room. Stella followed close behind him.

As the pair waited for the elevator, Mac looked to Stella who had a hard look on her face. He thought wistfully about the fact that home would have to wait a little longer. Realistically he knew that is where both of them should be but he knew Stella was seeing this through to the end. That meant he was too.

"Stella?" Mac asked, her gaze finding him, giving him a knowing look. Mac was not surprised to find newfound determination there. She was revitalized for the moment but Mac was sorry their discussion had been cut short.

"I can't do anything about her past but I am going to get this jerk _today_ so Jenny does not have to worry about him anymore," Stella stated forcefully, the elevator doors opening before Mac could respond.

As they entered into the car, Mac could not help but feel he had a firecracker on his hands.


	14. Chapter 14

Ruth Kilner was scared. If not for the fact that the drunken man in front of her was her husband, she would already be half way down the street. Ron was pacing their small living room in their two bedroom flat; the stench of liquor was more than evident. He was obviously agitated, his clothes were in disarray and as he continued walking about in front of her; Ruth found there was little she recognized in the man before her.

When they were first married, it had not taken her long to figure out Ron had a drinking problem. It had gotten him into some trouble and after the incident with that fellow outside the bar; Ron had gone clean. Ruth knew that over the years, he had fallen off the wagon but he had always managed to get back on. Ron had always stated he did not like the weak and disorientated feeling he had when drinking. The number one thing about Ron was he had to be in control.

Therefore, it had surprised her when her husband of over 40 years had entered their home after most likely drinking a keg at some bar. It attested to the aging man's anxiety and concern over the situation. It also meant that Ruth knew how dangerous her situation could be. His temper was much more likely to flair at the littlest thing.

Ruth looked at her cordless phone that she had purposely left on. The green light was still flashing, indicating the line was active. Ruth looked nervously to Ron who continued to pace, his mouth ranting on about something. He had not noticed yet, Ruth was hoping that the police were on their way. She was sure they were smart enough to get the message.

Ruth looked up as the crashing of ceramic warranted her attention. Ron had stumbled into the end table by their sofa, causing their 40th anniversary plate to lay in pieces on their carpeted floor. Several mumbled swear words were uttered as Ron righted himself and continued his pacing. Stopping for a brief moment, Ruth watched as her husband looked out their living room window that faced onto the street, before turning to look at her.

"And her...," Ron growled, his voice low and angry. "If she had kept her mouth shut, we would not be in this mess. I had things under control," he stated, walking closer to Ruth. "David had it coming to him anyways."His eyes were bloodshot and angry, watching her very closely—looking for any indication that she knew the circumstances.

"Jenny?" Ruth asked innocently, playing the dumb fool he thought she was. Ron shook his head angrily before turning and finally sitting in his lazy boy for a moment.

"Who else?" he replied vehemently while throwing his hands in the air. "That girl has some nerve. I saved her ass from the street, gave her a job. If not for me she would be dead, she definitely did not have what it takes to live on the streets," Ron ranted. Abruptly rising from his chair, he stood in front of Ruth menacingly. "She will pay."

The words haunted her as Ron left the room, a sigh escaping her lips as she heard the bathroom door close. Ron was proving to be quite a challenge and Ruth found herself doubting she would be able to calm her husband down if he decided to turn on her. On the best of days, Ron was thick headed about listening to anything she said. Ruth doubted the alcohol had helped change his thought process any.

Ruth quickly checked the cordless phone, the indicator light still flashing green. Picking it up and tentatively listening, she did indeed hear noises from the other end.

"Mrs Kilner?" a calm voice asked; Ruth listening to make sure Ron remained in the bathroom.

"Yes," Ruth replied quietly.

"Detective Flack and some officers are on route to pick up your husband. Will you be safe until they arrive? They should be there in several minutes," the operator's voice asked. The unspoken question in her voice was had he hurt her yet or did she feel threatened. That very thought alone, the fact that she was even in this situation caused Ruth to close her eyes tightly and swallow hard.

"Yes." Ruth heard the flushing of the toilet and quickly indicated to the operator that she had to leave. Replacing the phone back on the table, she stood up innocently as Ron sauntered back into the living room. He eyed his wife suspiciously as he came to a halt before her. His dilated pupils roamed her body and stopped on her face. His dark eyes locked with hers, almost challenging her.

"I heard you went to see her in the hospital," Ron's voice held a touch of anger. Ruth slowly nodded.

"I did. I wanted to make sure she was okay. I wanted to see if she would drop the charges against you," Ruth half lied, her husband stepping closer and putting his large arm around her shoulders.

"When you went to the police station this morning-- you were just what...checking on the charges?" Silence followed as Ruth felt her husband close his hand around her arm. She was unsure of what to say, her heart beginning to beat a little faster. Suddenly Ron roughly pulled her around and in front of him so his face was inches from hers. "Answer me," he demanded.

Ruth looked up to her husband, noting that his normally unemotional eyes were radiating anger.

"Yes," Ruth again lied.

"Annie, don't lie to me. I know the truth." Ron pulled Ruth close so that his nose was touching hers. "You turned me into the cops," he spat, pushing her away violently. Ruth stumbled backwards into the sofa. Ron commenced pacing while Ruth stood up once again, keeping her distance.

"It's bad enough that bitch did it but my _own _wife..." Ron continued. He stopped and turned watching as Ruth stood there quietly. "After everything we have done and been through...," he added, his voice turning sombre for a moment.

"Yes Ron. Everything we have been through--Your drinking, the gambling, your monthly visits to that _whore,"_ Ruth now stated angrily. Ron's head shot up at her comment, his brows furrowing. "Yes I know about that. All these things I have put up with for over 40 years. What I cannot tolerate is having a murderer under my house, sleeping in my bed," Ruth watched his brows knitting together further.

The surprise quickly passed and what could only be described as rage filled his features.

"At least she was good," Ron replied, his voice once again a low growl. A smile then graced his lips, his eyes betraying his dark intentions. Roughly grabbing a hold of her arm once more, Ron pulled her close to him. His hand slowly shifted down her back, copping a feel of her ass. "If I am a murderer, what does that make you...dear wife?"

Ruth watched him closely, his putrid breath attacking her senses in such close proximity. The aging woman pushed against Ron, trying to break his grasp of her body. His hand was now travelling the curves of her body, an act that only a week ago would have been a pleasurable experience. Now it brought bile into her throat. Despite her best efforts, he held Ruth fast to his body.

"Ron let me go," Ruth attempted again to push herself away, a chuckle escaping as he clamped his arms tighter around her. Her head was pressed to his chest; her ear could discern his rapid heartbeat. Ruth Suppressed fear that was beginning to overtake her body, her own heartbeat beating rapidly. "Let me go," she exclaimed more forcefully this time.

Ron's chuckle evaporated as blue and red flashing lights lit up their living room. His body tensed as he pulled her closer to the window for a better look before quickly moving out of view.

"SHIT," he muttered, refusing to loosen his grasp around Ruth. Ron looked around their living room, feeling his control of the situation quickly dissipating. Considering the exits, Ron knew that the cops would be over the two doors from his apartment.

"Ron, cooperate and the police will not harm you," Ruth pleaded. As much as she hated this shadow of the man she loved that stood before her, she had no desire to see harm come to him. It would be hard enough knowing she had put him in prison. If something happened to him...Ruth pushed those thoughts away unwilling to consider the consequences of that scenario.

Deciding that Ron had enough, he focused his anger on the only person he could. Releasing his grip slightly, he held Ruth an arm's length away. The cornered look in his eye, like a prey animal who realized the hunter was close, was replaced with fury.

"This is your doing! You turned me in, there is only one way to rectify the situation," Ron stated angrily, his voice breaking with emotion that was no longer contained in his body.

The color drained from Ruth's face as she watched her husband raise his hand in preparation for a swing. She pulled away, but one hand held a death grip of her arm.

"You bitch," Ron growled, his voice low with words only meant for her to hear.

Quickly his arm moved into action, his fast jab catching his wife in the jaw sending her backwards. Waiting until the momentum of her body sent her downward; he roughly let his hand slip off her arm. Ruth hit the carpeted floor bonelessly. She vaguely felt his foot connect with her ribs, her surroundings moving in slow motion. Her mind in apparent disconnect with time.

Ruth heard voices yelling outside their door. They were muffled and raised.

"NYPD! Ron Kilner, open the door!" the voices continued as she registered another kick this one brushing her arm that was protecting her head.

Seconds later, she heard splintering wood as their door was broken down. Ruth felt more than heard the several bodies attacking her husband. She felt the reverberations in the floor as his weight met the unforgiving floorboards. Realizing her eyes were shut, she opened them slowly. Ron's angry brown eyes stared back at her. Three police officers dressed in flack jackets held him belly down while the curly haired detective from before was busy placing hand cuffs around his wrists.

"Ron Kilner, you are under arrest for assault and murder," the woman's voice was cold and her dislike of the man was obvious. Ruth could not blame her. She did not like this man either. Ruth watched as the police officer's rose and pulled Ron up roughly. The curly haired detective smiled at the man before her. Ron attempted to push the officer's off him with his bulk, instead managing a stagger that attested to his intoxicated state.

"Ron I hope you enjoy your time in the federal prison system, it's a nice place," the detective stated deadpan, the uniformed officers then proceeding to guide him out of the living room. It was only once Ron was out of sight that she realized someone was calling her name.

Redirecting her attention was hard, time was no longer in slow motion but her head physically hurt. She found Detective Taylor kneeling down beside her. He looked at her questioning, obviously wondering if she was okay. Ruth simply nodded her head, looking around the room as her senses suddenly seemed to reconnect with her brain—the noises in the room rushing to her. This time she heard the man's question, his concern conveyed through his eyes.

"Ma'am, are you sure you're okay?" He put a hand on her shoulder, indicating for her to remain lying as a young blonde haired paramedic joined them. The young man's fingers were cool on her skin as he assessed her pulse.

"I am fine. A little dizzy is all," Ruth replied quietly, the detective assisting her to a sitting position. The older woman watched as the chaos around her quieted, most of the police presence had been to apprehend Ron. The curly haired detective joined them, as the paramedic proclaimed she was fine.

"Flack is on the way to the precinct with Ron," Stella indicated, giving Ruth a sympathetic look. The older woman ignored it; she did not want anyone's sympathy. She may not have had the best husband but her life had been decent. "You were smart, calling 911 when you did." Ruth only nodded her head. "That could not have been an easy decision," Stella surmised, watching the older woman for her response.

"No it was not detectives...but that man you took away was not my husband. I guess he died a long time ago," Ruth's voice broke, a single tear sliding down her wrinkling cheek. She brought her hand to her mouth for a moment, taking a steadying breath and then looked up to the two detectives.

"What will happen to him?" she asked slowly, trying not to let her thoughts wander to what prison would be like. Ruth saw a knowing look pass between the detectives, more or less confirming what she thought.

"Well...,"the younger woman began, Mac assisting her to a standing position. Ruth ignored the slight sway the room had and instead focused on the speaker in front of her. "Ron will be taken to central booking. He will be printed and then taken to a holding cell where he will wait until he is brought before a judge. After that he will be taken to prison."

Ruth again nodded. "I see." Her gaze turned to her feet, her clear headedness returning. The after effects of the punch now mostly dissipated. Tenderly touching her jaw, Ruth thought she would have a tough time explaining that bruise away. "Do I have to come in?" she asked, Ruth was unsure if she could take going over the course of events many times, in detail.

"No," Detective Taylor replied, "An officer will collect your statement now. If we have any more questions, we will contact you." Ruth sighed, relieved. The man waved his hand, getting the attention of another in the room. A uniformed officer then stepped up beside her. "This is Officer Grogan, he will take your statement," Mac explained.

The two detectives turned to walk away, Ruth grabbing the woman's arm softly. She gave her a pleading look.

"Please make sure Jenny looks after herself...that she moves on," Ruth stated, drawing her lips tightly together and removing her hand from Stella's arm.

"Yes," the detective replied and walked away.

Ruth looked to the young, brown haired officer before her. He gave her a questioning look, asking if she was ready. Ruth sighed, looking around their home, which really did not feel like home at all now. It contained memories that she was not sure she could shake. Giving the young man a small smile, she nodded.


	15. Chapter 15

A/N: okay, so the story is winding down now. I hope you enjoy the last couple chapters!

* * *

Late afternoon shadows were giving way to early evening dusk as Stella and Mac were driving from the Kilner residence. Mac drove in silence; the only noise was the revving of the engine as they made their way through busy city streets. The anxious honking of inpatient drivers and vicious words said in anger where oblivious to them, their vehicle protecting them from the restless city.

Mac spared a glance at Stella as he stopped at a red light. Her head was turned looking out the window but he knew she was not watching the streets. His partner's mind was no doubt still thinking about their young victim. Stella had been quiet since they had left Ron's house, the act of physically cuffing Ron and handing him off to Flack had used up the last of her energy reserves. It ended the saga that had spanned the last few days and it meant she could inform Jenny that her attacker was now in custody.

Mac returned his sights to the road as a motorist behind him honked angrily attesting to the two-second lapse before he had spied the green light. Pushing the truck on slowly, the pair continued in silence. Neither party was unaccustomed to silence between them; sometimes the most profound conversations between them involved little words at all. The silence that filled the cabin of the SUV was comfortable; both were too tired to try to muster up pointless conversation.

It was not until 20 minutes later that Stella looked around the street surprised and then looked to her friend questioningly. Her raised eyebrow indicating she was not amused.

"Where we going Mac?" she asked, searching for a street sign. They were definitely not going to the lab, where she had thought they were headed.

"To see Jenny, that is where you were going next right?" Mac offered, causing Stella to smile slightly. She shook her head, silently cursing herself for not paying attention.

"Yes," she replied, turning her full attention to Mac. "I was perfectly capable of driving myself thank-you." Stella tried to keep the indignation out of her voice, only partly successful. The fact that Mac was going out of his way, made her feel slightly guilty. She was a big girl, as she kept proclaiming.

"You're a big girl, I know Stella," Mac stated, echoing her thoughts. A frown crossed her features, causing her to think that perhaps she had dropped that line a little too much. Sensing Stella's frustration caused Mac's lips to quirk into a small smile. "I know how tired you are...WE are," he revised, "I just wanted to make sure you arrived safely." He was hoping to play off her knowledge that he was gentleman first.

The barrage of words that he thought were coming was instead replaced with a hand touching his arm. He carefully schooled his expression, tearing his eyes away from the road for a moment to find Stella's face. He found a tired smile there, her green eyes sparkling.

"I appreciate that Mac." Mac simply nodded his head and returned his view to the road. Her hand lingered a few seconds longer, its weight causing him to remember how good it felt to have a woman's touch. The warmth of her hand then vanished, Mac wishing it had lasted a little longer. Mac could still feel a slight tingling sensation.

"I wanted to thank you for this afternoon...back in the locker room," Stella started, her green eyes watching him. He could feel her scrutinizing his response without checking. The former marine shrugged his shoulders.

"You know anytime Stella," his eyes were focused on the road, it was his mental effort to keep the thoughts that were floating dangerously close to his fatigued brain from popping out of his mouth. Private thoughts that were not meant for his partner to hear, he would not be responsible for destroying what they had, for losing Stella's confidence in him. Moreover, Mac knew that without each other to confide in, the two of them would drown under the weight of their own thoughts.

"Of course, same goes for you Mac."

Stella gave her partner a knowing look. Despite the fact that his gaze remained fixed on the streets before them, she could see he was beginning to look uncomfortable. Of the two of them, Mac was more hesitant at sharing his thoughts. Stella knew that he did not want someone else to have to shoulder the weight of his own problems but that is what friends do. Or so Stella continued to tell him.

"Of course." The slight tension in his voice was picked up by Stella causing her to switch the line of conversation.

"Be careful yourself Mac," Stella cautioned. "You have been up probably longer than me." This comment brought a reassuring smile to Mac's lips.

"I will be fine Stella," he replied softly, pulling the truck into the hospital entrance. The vehicle came to a stop in front of the doors. He looked to his partner who gave him a warning look.

"That line didn't work for me," Stella chided, a devilish grin creating laugh lines on her face. Mac shrugged in response and left it at that. He held a double standard, the curse of being a gentleman. Stella gave him a frown before pulling herself out of the truck.

"Call me when you get home," Stella indicated, pointing her finger at him like a child. This brought a chuckle to Mac's lips and a nod of his head. This is in turn brought a sparkle to Stella's tired eyes.

"Fine," Mac gave in, knowing that Stella would badger him on his cell phone if he refused. Mac noted the triumphant look settled on her features.

"Good night Mac," Stella stated, Mac waving as she closed the truck door. Mac watched her walk into the hospital entrance, smiling as she turned to wave at him before the automatic doors closed behind her.

Pulling back out onto the street, Mac felt happy that his job was done for the moment. For once, he could honestly say that his bed was calling him.

* * *

Ron Kilner was having a bad day. Scratch that...a very bad week he thought glumly. The older man looked blearily out the interview room window that allowed a snapshot view of the precinct, which appeared deceptively quiet for early evening. Ron had now spent several hours in the room, which meant he had already counted ceiling and floors tiles—twice. It had allowed the alcohol induced haze to lift slightly, leaving him with a pounding headache and a sudden appreciation for the mess in which he now found himself.

Murder. Assault. Jail. Those were all words he remembered from the curly haired detective's speech. The baby faced detective, Flack, had also emphasized those points but he had been too oblivious to care at the time. Now he was realizing he was in trouble, no smoozing his way out of this one; he was going to jail.

Sighing angrily, Ron rested his chin in his cuffed hands. The whole situation could have been avoided if he had kept his wits about him—if he had been sober and not blew his top when David told him his money was not coming. If only—words that would haunt him now.

Wistfully he thought of his wife. It was true that for many years he had not been faithful and had paid little attention to his wife. He had to admit, he had been surprised when she had stood up to him. It was obvious that even his doe faced Annie, who did not have an angry bone in her body had enough. His thoughts were drawn to happier times when they had been very much in love. That had been when the booze had loosened its hold on him, when she had helped him fight off the cravings. Before he had completely shut himself off and decided to ignore his wife.

Annie had been there for him.

Not now. Not after beating her. Ron had seen the fear and hurt in her eyes. Ron may have been a boozing, cheating bastard but he had never once laid a hand on her. Stone faced, Ron looked to his hands; the fresh bruises a reminder of their use. He hated this feeling, as if someone else was driving his body. Unfortunately, Ron knew that no such claim would hold up in court. His pleas would be useless in persuading the judge.

He had murdered David Forbes after all. Ron had to admit it had not been his intention but it was not as if he had been a stand up guy. Forbes had squandered all his money away gambling, the same place Ron had frequented—the racetrack.

Looking up from his brooding at the opening of the door, Ron gave Flack a scowl.

"Will you book me already? I am getting tired of seeing your sorry face," Ron leaned back in his chair, laying his cuffed hands on the table. He watched the cop appraise him, watching him closely. Ron may have a conscience now but it was not going to help his situation any. It would not help his reputation any either.

"You're a nice guy Kilner," Flack replied not intimidated at all. He had faced his share of hard- nosed soul-less criminals over his career. Ron did not even enter that category however; he was near the top of the list for heartless creeps. Sitting down opposite him Don produced a tape recorder. "You're not such a tough guy- beating on innocent women," the detective added, challenging Ron. Instead of succumbing to his bait, Ron merely smiled serenely. He did not want to give the guy any more ammunition.

"I'm here to have one final discussion before you go to lockup," Flack explained, setting the recorder on the table between them. "This is your last chance to tell us your side of the story."

Ron sighed. They already knew the story. They knew he was a murderer, what more did they want from him.

"I thought you already had all the answers?" Ron returned with a toothy grin, his eyes betraying that he was tired of this situation. Flack stared the older man down for a moment, Ron not turning away from his gaze. Don did get the impression though that despite his bravado, the situation had gotten far more complicated and out of control than he had intended.

"Spell it out for me. I like a good story," Flack gave Ron a look indicating that if he did not spill his guts soon it would not be a good decision. Raising an eyebrow, Flack shrugged. "Listen, we go to court now- we have a young woman's testimony, we have your own wife's statement. That Ron, looks pretty bad and is not going to garner you much sympathy from the court. You give us your side of the story; it might work in your favour."

Flack watched Ron continue to sit in silence. The detective was surprised to see a look of guilt pass his features for a moment. It was short lived but it was obvious that Ron was feeling a little regret over the situation; Don thought it probably had more to do with the fact that he was going to jail. This time Ron shrugged his shoulders.

"Detective, you know what happened. You have witnesses to prove it. I have nothing else to add." Ron watched Flack again raise an eyebrow, surprise filling his features. Ron gave the detective a scowl. "I'm finished here," he added for emphasis. He knew that no matter what he said on tape, it only confirmed that he was horrible person who killed a man and assaulted two women.

"You may not have anything to add but I'm going over the timeline anyway," Flack stated, resting his hands lightly on the file folder in front of him. It contained all the evidence gathered against Ron but the detective had no need to browse the file, he had a good memory. Flack watched as the scowl deepened on Ron's aging features, he was not impressed. The detective was definitely not letting the scumbag off that easy.

"So like all good stories, this one starts out with good intentions I assume? You go to see David a second time, to have a discussion or whatever. Before you leave home, you ask your wife to run some money to a prearranged spot across town, which was in aide of an alibi. Your wife thought she was taking money to one of the people you owed money too, instead it was for your prostitute," Don smiled for a moment, maintaining his eye contact with the man opposite him. Ron never flinched, never dropped his gaze, he was not backing away from his unspoken challenge.

"That was your first mistake, you pissed off the wife," Flack indicated, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head. "You go to the stable, find David Forbes. Put a pair of gloves on- which indicates to me that you had intention to kill this man despite your claims otherwise and strangle the man. You leave and wait for the inevitable call. Second mistake," Flack holds up two fingers, "you left your gloves at the stable and you throw your prize winning cowboy hat in the garbage when you get home. Now your observant wife notes this and actually saves it, gives it to lab and it gives us trace evidence to help place you at David's murder."

"Let's speed up the story to a couple days later. In an effort to keep your secret, you confront your stable hand, Jenny Logan assuming she knew about David. You assault the young woman, not for the first time I might add and leave her injured in your stable," Flack paused for a moment, pretending to consult his notes but in actuality was trying to assess Ron's take on the situation. The older man's eyes remained glued to Flack and the only indication that he was getting uncomfortable was the slight twinge in his brow.

"Skip to the next day. After being released, you go out and get tanked. You learn your own wife provided testimony against you. You return home, only to beat your wife and end up under my care," Flack concludes, Ron finally removing his gaze to his hands for a moment. The detective stands, feeling that he has been idle too long. "It's a nice story isn't it? I personally like the ending when the bad guy is taken to jail for a very long time," Flack rounded the table, taking in the large man sitting before him. He noted Ron clenching and unclenching his fists attesting to the fact that apparently he was not a fan of his story.

"Like I said, you have all the answers." Ron looked up to Flack. This time the young detective smiled, stopping opposite him and leaning on the table.

"I do. That's the part I love about this job," Don stated noting the hard look that now crossed Ron's features. Flack crossed the interrogation room floor quickly, stopping before exiting. "An officer will be in to take you to booking." The detective then disappeared through the door jam, a uniformed officer entering into the room.

Ron watched as the officer stood imposingly at his side for a few seconds, indicating for him to stand up. A beefy hand pulled on his elbow when he did not comply fast enough. As the officer roughly assisted him down the hall, Ron wished that his life would end now. He was not a religious man, had not been for many years. Perhaps he should start. Unfortunately, Ron did not believe that God handed out wishes to sinners...especially not murderers.

* * *

Jenny watched gloomily out her hospital room window. Dark clouds had forced themselves unto the cityscape, pushing the dusky pink rays out of sight and replacing them with the soothing song of rain beating on the window. The young woman looked down onto the streets, people darting quickly between vehicles and buildings trying to avoid the rain. Umbrellas dominated the sidewalk in the glimmer of the streetlights, as the city dwellers did their best to remain dry. Jenny found herself longingly wishing to feel the cool rain pelting her body. Its cadence could help her forget; help stem the flow of the memories that had been resting with her all afternoon. The sluice of rain could wash away her unshed tears and Ron's spicy aftershave smell that seemed to cling to her body since the attack.

The low rumble of thunder then permeated her room, a flash of lightening streaking across the sky moments later. As the sound and light show continued, Jenny could not help but feel that Mother Nature was mirroring her mood. Jenny watched slightly amused as the pedestrians on the street now scrambled for cover as the thundershower brought on a downpour of water. The view from her room was obscured as a curtain of water covered her window.

"Nice weather eh?" a familiar voice called from behind her, causing Jenny to turn. Stella stood just inside the door, a smile covering her features. Jenny simply shrugged and returned her view to the window. The young woman actually liked the weather, unlike Stella, which was indicated by her sarcastic tone. Jenny had always liked rain, had a very important appreciation for it. She supposed it was the fact that her past quite literally went up in smoke. A good rain was refreshing, like starting new or could be numbing- forming a barrier against the world. Fire destroyed.

At Jenny's continued silence, Stella entered the room coming to a halt at her side. The detective could feel emotional turmoil emanating from the woman, knowing that it had been an exhausting day of poignant memories. Traumatic memories from both the past and the present. Memories that despite Jenny's best efforts defined and consumed her; preventing her from forging a new future.

"I wanted to let you know that Ron is now in custody. He will be going to jail," Stella stated quietly, watching Jenny's response from the corner of her eye.

The young woman's head bowed slightly, her shoulder length brown hair pitching forward and covering her face. Stella watched as her hand reached to her face, soft sobs then audible. Stella could then discern the gentle rocking of shoulders, the young woman finally allowing herself the opportunity to let go of her emotions. The reflection in the window allowed Stella to view the tears leaving trails down the young woman's face. A bolt of lightning flashed in the darkness, clearly illuminating Jenny's hands desperately trying to hide her tear-streaked features.

Stella slowly placed her hand on Jenny's shoulder, feeling the young woman's body tense at her touch. A moment passed and her body relaxed, Jenny's defences lowering. She was tired of always guarding, always schooling her reactions. Jenny could feel that Stella's intentions were honest, that she genuinely cared about her feelings and her situation. It was with no small effort that Jenny allowed the older woman's arms to envelope her, to hold her, to allow her body that emotional release.

Jenny's response was immediate, sobs overtaking her body and many years of feelings expressed through tears. Stella remained quiet allowing her arms and the touch of her body to provide the comfort that Jenny needed. She was strong for her, so that Jenny did not have to be. It was not the first time that Stella had provided the needed physical contact for a distraught victim, this time however it felt much more personal. Jenny represented her past and she hoped all this would help the younger woman focus on her future.

Several minutes passed, the two remained; allowed the thunder to fill the room. Jenny breathed slowly, trying to bring her emotions and body back under her control. Her eyes remained closed, Stella's arms and regular heartbeat providing a refuge for her. It reminded her of happier times, of a mothers touch -- when she had felt safe. Taking a steadying breath, Jenny pulled away rubbing her face tiredly. Opening her eyes slowly, Stella's green eyes greeted her. They were concerned but trying to convey reassurance that things would get better.

"Thank you," Jenny mumbled her voice hoarse and only a whisper. Her gaze dropped to her hands, embarrassed over her break down, even if much needed. Stella's hand graced her arm for a moment, squeezing quickly before removing it.

"No problem. I said I would do what I can to get you through this and I meant it," Stella reinforced, her smile lost on Jenny whose gaze remained on her hands.

"So Ron is in jail, no worries about him getting out?" Jenny asked, her gaze meeting Stella's. The older woman shook her head, her curls bobbing around her face. It was obvious to the detective that this news was bittersweet.

"No chance kiddo," Stella replied. Jenny nodded, chewing on her lip anxiously. Turning to look out at the storm that continued to barrage the city, Jenny felt relief and worry at the same time. It was over, she thought with mixed feelings. Unfortunately, it also meant she now had no job or place to live.

"Good. I can't deal with him anymore," Jenny confided, rubbing her broken arm gingerly, Jenny had more than enough reminders of Ron's kindness. "Now what?" Jenny then asked.

"You are released. You are free to leave the hospital tomorrow," Stella indicated, watching as fear creeped back into Jenny's features.

"Oh," was her only reply. Silence ensued as the pair watched the grand display of nature playing out before them. "I have no place to go," Jenny finally confided.

"It's taken care of," Stella's face held a smirk when Jenny's surprised face looked up. The younger woman's eyebrow quirked slightly at her response. She watched as Stella pulled an envelope out of her pocket, handing it to Jenny.

Jenny took the offered envelope, looking questioningly at Stella, who only smiled and indicated for her to open it.

The envelope opened easily, its contents two pieces of paper. A hand scrawled note and an official looking piece of paper. Taking the note first, Jenny recognized Ruth's swirly handwriting. Pushing back an unwelcome rush of emotion, Jenny cleared her throat and began to read.

_Dearest Jenny,_

_Nothing can make up for what happened to you. I will not even try but I hope that this helps you begin your recovery. I put a good word in for you with Daniel's barn across the park. You start as soon as you are healed; I told him he could not find a better overseer. In addition, just for your piece of mind, a much nicer apartment awaits you there. _

_Also, as per David's will he has left you Oscar. His registration papers are enclosed. He will be waiting for you at Daniel's when you arrive. _

_Jenny, a word of advice from an old woman do not let these events define you. I know you have been struggling with your past but it is time to move on. Enjoy life. Make better choices than I have. _

_Best wishes. _

_Sincerely _

_Ruth_

Jenny swallowed hard as she finished reading the letter, trying to push away a new onslaught of tears threatening to spill. Folding the letter back up neatly, Jenny pulled out the next paper. As promised, the document was registration information for Oscar. Staring at the paper pointedly for a few moments, she finally looked up to Stella.

"Ruth was responsible for organizing this. I found it on my desk earlier today, before we apprehended Ron," Stella explained. For the first time in a while, a smile erupted on Jenny's face reaching her eyes. Even with her swollen eye, it was apparent her brown eyes were sparkling.

"I have a place to go," Jenny stated, testing it out before smiling again.

"Tomorrow morning, you are free," Stella indicated, a small chuckle leaving her lips. She pointed to the letter. "I know that Ruth hurt you but she is making an honest effort to help. She also has some good advice, take it to heart."

"Thank you," Jenny repeated, her eyes glistening.

"No problem. More than happy to help," Stella replied, feeling misty eyed herself.

Sudden quiet permeated the room. The rain had stopped. The duo looked out to find the dark, looming clouds receding with the crest of the moon beginning to appear from behind a cloud.

"It's over," Jenny stated quietly, not just referring to the rainstorm.


	16. Chapter 16

Jenny watched reluctantly as Stella left her hospital room. Looking around the now deserted area, the young woman rubbed her arms briskly trying to make the chill that was starting to set in her body to go away. Looking at the clock on the wall Jenny noted it was well after 11pm. The detective had stayed into the evening hours to keep her company, knowing she did not want to be alone. Especially after the emotional discussions that seemed to have permeated the day, the airing of her emotional laundry she supposed.

Jenny was still confused over the detective's interest in her. Stella had been a steadying force from the moment she had taken her to the hospital for her broken arm. Jenny had not expected her to keep returning into the picture. She had expected nothing. Jenny had been flying solo for a long time and was accustomed to dealing with life's issues on her own. She had not been doing a great job of it to date but Jenny had come to the point in her life where feeling had been highly over rated. The only joy she felt was when she was working with the horses, her relationship with them built out of trust. They asked for nothing in return and provided her comfort when it was needed. Anything else seemed to cause her pain.

Of course, that happened after you spent most of your life putting your feelings in a box and shoving it to the back of your mind. Far enough and deep enough within that it would not have to be dealt with. A survivor's tactic that only took you so far before you turned into a zombie. Your feelings are all locked up inside and you find out no one wants to be around you; perpetuating your feeling that nobody cares. That had been her life.

Jenny pushed pillows behind her back, bracing herself upright in the bed. Her room was now shrouded in darkness, the pale light of the moon seeping in through the window. She leaned her head back, looking up at the ceiling. Her mind reeled over the fact that tomorrow morning she was leaving the hospital, a job and place to live already put in place--the fact that Ruth had gone through the trouble of setting it up for her. Jenny glanced at the envelope sitting on the over bed table. Her name scrawled on the front. It held her future, hopefully a new beginning. It was a thought that brought a smile once again to her lips.

Somehow, her life had turned around in a matter of days. Jenny could not fathom the whole mess that had suddenly turned into her saving grace.

It had surely not felt that way when Jenny had used bloodied fingers to pull out the business card from her pocket and call Stella's number. Waiting as she sat bruised and bleeding in Oscar's stall for an almost stranger to rescue her, hoping her nightmare would not return that night.

It had not been while Stella had collected evidence from her, the pain staking process of going over every wound and insult to her flesh caused by Ron. A reminder of how she had floated aimlessly through her life, letting a so-called friend beat her needlessly when she could have walked away.

It had not been while she had sat silently in her bed, watching as a familiar face walked into the room with a bouquet of flowers, the older woman who had wordlessly condoned her husband's actions. The wildflowers meant as a token of friendship but at the time had represented another chapter of her life gone astray.

It was not until Stella had marched in and pronounced Ron was behind bars. It had not been until Jenny had allowed herself to release a dam holding emotions back from many years ago. When a person she now considered a friend had held her protectively, something Jenny had let no one else do in a very long time.

It was not until she had read the letter and seen it confirmed in Stella's eyes that she knew her life was turning a corner.

Jenny smiled again; it had been a long time since she had done that whole-heartedly. It created a warm feeling, an inner peace that had escaped Jenny for many years. Much of her young adult life had been spent trying to attain that peace, the calm she had felt all those years ago with her family. The sensation had consistently seemed to be out of her grasp; Jenny now realized she had been going about it the wrong way. Her past had been riding along in the passenger seat, a constant reminder of what she had lost. She never gave it the proper time to grieve, to feel, to cry.

Everyone had always marvelled at how well she had handled the situation but Jenny had simply boxed everything up and pushed it away. Denial was a powerful tool. It also only got you so far before life had a way of breaking that box open leaving you with two options. You build a new box, leaving a shadow of your former self- a mere shell of a human being while the past eats away at you inside. Or, you take the break and try starting anew.

Jenny was glad that this time she had the opportunity to do the latter.

Jenny yawned, noting that it was now after midnight. Her ponderings had brought her into the early morning hours. Feeling her eyes getting heavy, Jenny sighed and closed them. With a smile on her face, she gratefully let sleep take her. For the first time in a long time, slumber came easily.

* * *

Stella looked up at the pale moon, its glow diminished by the harsh city lights. Pulling her jacket tightly around her, Stella fought off the chill that accompanied the spring night. Looking down the mainly deserted street, she sighed, watching as her breath created a plume of mist in the cool air. Stella had been walking now for over an hour. She had the cab drop her off, feeling the need to walk and allow herself the time to think. Her mind was working over time anyways; sleep would not be finding her tonight.

The last few days had given her a look into how her past could have turned out. Granted Stella had never been the kind of person to allow another to take advantage of her like Ron had Jenny, but she often wondered if things had happened differently, would she have still turned out the same? Life often took twists and turns you do not expect, like Frankie for example she thought bitterly. She had thought he had been a perfect gentleman, look where that had taken her. A few more of those twists and turns could have left Stella bitter and resentful as well.

Stella knew it had been her own stubborn need to succeed that she had finished school and managed to get into the academy. In her eyes, if she could become a cop she would finally belong somewhere. Even if the acquaintances were only work related, she could say that she was a NYPD officer. The fact she had grew up in an orphanage was of little concern to criminals. Stella would not deny she had her own issues, her emotions had led her way through life and it had been tough learning to think first and act second.

A shrill ring rang out, causing Stella to jump. The stillness of the night and her thoughts had shrouded her attention. Quickly pulling her phone from her hip, she smiled as she recognized Mac's number.

"Bonasera," Stella answered in her usual greeting, continuing her slow walk down the street. Stella hoped her partner was calling her for personal reasons and not work related.

"Stella, I thought you were going home?" Mac's voice was worried but heavy, as if he had just woken from sleep.

"I am...just taking the long way," Stella replied watching as a car drove by, the driver watching her suspiciously before passing her. Looking around the middleclass neighbourhood, Stella supposed she might look odd walking down the road this time of night.

"Stella," Mac sighed, a pause following, "It is 1:30 in the morning. You should not be walking around by yourself," her friend chided, his voice now sounding more awake. Stella could almost imagine him now sitting up in bed, ready to chew her out.

"Mac, its fine. I was dropped off in a good place. I do have a gun you know," Stella stated annoyed. "I needed some time to think," she added. Silence followed. Mac decided against pursuing the first subject, instead feeling out the cause for her sleeplessness. Mac thought he already knew the answer.

"You okay?" Mac asked, trying to probe into her current state of mind. A small chuckle greeted his ears.

"Other than wondering aimlessly through this neighbourhood I'm great," Stella mocked, shifting her phone to her opposite ear. Taking note of a street sign, she adjusted her course—okay she admitted to herself, she was not aimlessly walking. "Mac, what are you doing up?" Stella interjected, altering the course of the conversation.

"I was having a good sleep actually," Mac explained, "Until I woke up, noted the time and decided to call you to make sure you were home," he added. Stella could imagine her friend giving her an annoyed glare. The curly haired woman was about to respond with her big girl line but decided against it.

"Mac, I can take care of myself," Stella responded simply. A frown adorned her features as she thought about why she felt the need to push people away when they tried to help. Mac for the most part understood why she had an independent streak the size of Manhattan but it still managed to cause her trouble. Sensing her friend was about to retort angrily Stella quickly added, "I appreciate the thought though."

Mac's response was delayed, a sigh punctuating the silence.

"Stella, you are the cause of my grey hairs," Mac stated, his tone indicating he did not find it humorous. Her reply died on her lips. She swallowed, she did not mean to be so stubborn but Mac's honesty was a warning. Was she that difficult? "Stella, where are you? I will come pick you up," Mac instructed, his tone indicating it was non-negotiable. Mac knew that Stella would take that tone only from him.

Coming to a stop, a small sign caused Stella's lips to turn upright. Looking at the four-story apartment building in front of her, one window was alit with a cool glow.

"Look down." Stella indicated, watching the window from below. A few seconds passed and Mac's form appeared in view.

"I should not be surprised, should I?" he stated into the phone, his voice now lighter.

"Well you are the only person I know that would be up this time of night," Stella returned, her partner on most nights catching only a few hours sleep. A late night run was not an uncommon occurrence. "You are also the only person I know who I could talk to," Stella added, returning to the subject she had avoided earlier in the conversation.

Mac thought he knew what was bothering her. This case had brought up her past, what could have happened to her. Her mind always went looking after what would have happened to her if life had been different, if she had not pulled herself together. Mac knew it was a result of her childhood, her constant need to change, to fix whatever she could. To try as hard as she could to put others on a good path, allow them the opportunity to pull themselves together.

"I am glad you feel that way Stella. I am always there for you, no matter the time of day," Mac reinforced, his tone conveying his honesty and total belief in those words. He knew she would do the same, had demonstrated that belief on many occasions.

"Thank you," her hushed reply greeted him.

"I will buzz you in. Coffee's already on," Mac stated. Stella watched as her friend left the window causing her to walk into the lobby. She closed her phone, and tucked it into her pocket. A persistent buzzing informed her Mac unlocked the door, Stella stepping through quickly. Deciding to take the stairs, Stella strode purposely up the stairwell to the fourth floor.

Stopping in front of the appropriate apartment number, her hand was almost to the door before it opened. Mac greeted her with a smile; his normally perfect appearance was replaced with a man who looked like he had just woken up. His short hair askew, his sweatpants and shirt wrinkled. She stood there, suddenly feeling guilty. She had woken him from most likely the best sleep he had in weeks.

Stella looked to her friend sheepishly.

"Maybe I should go," Stella stated anxiously. "I should let you get back to sleep."

"Stella...," Mac replied quickly, reaching out and grabbing her hand firmly. Stella looked down at his hand and then up to him surprised. Mac surprised himself but he could see the look of unease on her face, as if she was going to bolt. Stella needed to talk, he knew she did and he was going to provide her with the chance. "I have had more sleep tonight than I have had in weeks already. I am fine."

Mac watched as Stella thought it over. Seeing she was not convinced, he continued.

"If you leave now, I will only worry about you," Mac stated, Stella arching her brow at his comment. Apparently, Mac Taylor knew how to play hardball. "Stella, please," Mac indicated into his apartment, his other hand not leaving hers. His touch worked to reel her in, Stella unable to say no to a man that so rarely gave into physical acts such as touch. Already Stella had seen many of those acts today, an indication of his concern over her.

Stella nodded and entered into his apartment, the smell of freshly brewed coffee greeting her. She smiled. Mac's hand released hers, holding his hand out for her jacket.

"That smells good." After her chilly walk, the prospect of a warm cup of coffee was delightful. Stella handed her partner the jacket and headed for Mac's small kitchen. Glancing around, Mac's apartment was the same as always- everything in its place with little personalized touch. A few photos punctuated the apartment- one of Claire on his bookcase, a team photo and a photo of him and Stella taken at a work party. A few plaques and medals adorned his walls from his time with the Marines. If you removed those personalized items, it would be as if no one lived there.

Stella knew that Mac's tidiness was a reflection of his personality, his need to keep everything in order. She also knew that after Claire had died, it had been an effort to remove her touch from his apartment. It had been too painful to keep mementos of their life together displayed for him to view daily; most were tucked away in a box somewhere. Eventually, as Stella had seen the progression of healing continue- Mac had brought out a few cherished items, Claire's picture one of them. She sat elegantly on his bookcase, a poignant reminder to Mac of what he had lost but definitely not forgotten.

Finding two mugs, she looked up as Mac entered into the kitchen. She filled both their cups, handing one to Mac. He took it with a small smile, Stella bringing her own mug to her lips. Taking a small sip, she closed her eyes joyfully as the warm liquid worked its way down into her chilled body.

"So...,"Mac started, "What is causing you to walk the streets at this hour?" he braved the small glare aimed his way, knowing that Stella could stand here for hours putting off discussing the real reason she was at his apartment. Both were experts of stepping around unwanted topics but Mac was hoping that tonight, Stella would not be playing that game.

Stella looked down at her coffee, her reflection looking back at her in the dark liquid. She shook her head, finding that she was having trouble putting her thoughts into words. Where should she start?

Mac sensed her unease at trying to bear her thoughts; he shifted his weight beginning to feel uncomfortable. Mac was unsure if he would be able to help Stella start the conversation, his partner was normally so good at sharing her thoughts. Usually, her words helped to bring his thoughts forward, to help breech his thick mental barriers. Mac watched as she swirled her cup, her gaze seemingly entranced with the moving liquid.

"Stella?" Mac's voice caused her to bring her head up, her eyes finding his quickly. She could see the worry in his gaze. His piercing eyes looking at her questioningly, encouraging her to say what was on her mind. She gave her friend a half smile.

"I think I just needed to be reminded that I have someone who cares," Stella stated softly, feeling her eyes tearing up. Hastily rubbing the moisture away, she gave a small laugh. "I think the one thing this case has done is made me appreciate more how my life has turned out. How lucky I am to have people like you in my life Mac, you look out for me no matter the circumstances even—even when I am peek-headed and angry."

Stella watched as her friend shifted awkwardly from her compliment, the corner of his lips twisted upward. "That is what partners...,"Mac's voice drifted off for a moment before clearing his throat, "That is what Friends do. And I do it happily, anytime just as I know you would." Stella nodded her head, grateful for her friend's choice of words. It allowed her to see that he valued her not just as a partner, but also more importantly as a friend. Mac's memory unconsciously reviewed the many times over the years when that mantra had been brought into play.

Stella smiled. She watched as Mac's face mirrored her own. A laugh was shared between them. Easy conversation than filled the kitchen, both people happy that the weighty topic had been brought forward. Neither person liked to think about how much their relationship defined and rounded out their lives. A constant both needed and sought out for on a daily basis. A well oiled machine that when out of commission, sent both their lives out of balance.

Their quiet voices continued into the night, companionship their only need at this early hour.


	17. Chapter 17

A/N: this is it, the end. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Epilogue

Jenny Logan looked grumpily down the aisle way, a large pile of manure sat steaming in the brisk morning air. Looking around for the offending party, she sighed and took a manure fork, disposing of the pile wordlessly. Three months of nagging and the young girls from the local pony club still were not cleaning up their mess. It may well be her job to keep the barn clean and look after the horses, but some common courtesy was always appreciated. Unfortunately, for many of the people that could afford the board for the stable, common courtesy was a foreign subject.

Continuing on her previous task, Jenny headed down the aisle searching for the hose. Finding it curled up at the facet, Jenny headed to her first stall. Placing the hose in the bucket, she began filling it- the water surging out of the hose. The brown horse within ignoring her for the hay he was happily munching on. Her mind began reflecting on the fact that it had been four months since her incident with Ron. Four months and her life was altogether different, going in a much better direction. Her job was going well; Danny was pleased with her work. Jenny held a much brighter outlook on her life.

The first month had not been pleasant. It had involved many doctor visits, physiotherapy for her arm and a feeling being worthless until her cast had come off. Her arm was now mostly healed, her strength returning more every day. Gradually her thoughts had veered away from Ron, moving onto the future. Jenny had now begun thinking about where she wanted her life to go. To her own disbelief, she was now thinking of going back to Vermont. Realistically, Jenny knew probably not for a year or more; her savings were accumulating slowly but until then she was happy with her life at present.

Moving down the aisle to the next stall, Oscar's head immediately came out to greet her. A low nicker left his nostrils as he pushed his nose into her hand. The brown and white horse had settled well into his new surroundings, his presence a therapy on its own for Jenny. Oscar was a devoted friend who asked little in return, something Jenny had been lacking in her life. Pulling out the peppermint she had in her pocket, Jenny smiled as he took it from her hand and began chomping on it happily. Rubbing him between the eyes, Jenny still marvelled over the fact that Oscar was hers.

"There is a nice sight," a familiar voice rang out from behind her. Jenny lifted her head, trying to place the voice before turning to greet them. A smile erupted as she immediately recognized Stella.

"What are you doing here?" Jenny asked confused, leaving Oscar and walking up to meet the detective. Jenny watched as the older woman looked her over, a smile on her face.

"I'm not allowed to come see a friend?" Stella asked, feigning being hurt while shrugging her shoulders. "Do I have to pull out my badge or what?" Jenny laughed; something Stella had not had the opportunity to see much of during their previous encounters.

"Of course not, I'm sorry," Jenny indicated and then shook her head, "I just never expected to see you again," she added truthfully. They had last seen each other two months ago at a court appearance for Ron's sentencing. It had been brief, to Jenny's disappointment. The younger woman felt she owed a lot to the detective who had seen her through a very hard time.

"Well, I may check in from time to time. I would like to keep in touch," Stella indicated with a sombre smile, knowing that Jenny would be thankful for the effort to prolong their friendship. She had little in the way of human relationships.

"I would appreciate that," Jenny replied, glancing down at her hands uncomfortably while nodding her head. A sigh escaped before Jenny met Stella's gaze once again. "Really appreciated, it's still pretty lonely around here," she added honestly. "Oscar is good and all but I would not mind having a conversation with someone who can talk back," Jenny chuckled at her own comment, brushing off her loneliness with humour.

"No problem kiddo," Stella answered, giving her a warm smile. Her face then going serious again, she then handed Jenny an envelope. "Listen I wanted to let you know that if you need anything, I am always available. Anytime," she re affirmed. Jenny once again nodded.

"Thanks." Jenny looked to the envelope in her hand and then to Stella questioningly. The detective simply smiled.

"Open it," she encouraged.

Jenny nimbly pulled open the envelope, pulling out a card. Reading over the front a small smile lit up her face, it was a birthday card. Opening it up carefully, she read the simple verse and a hand written note from Stella. Jenny closed the card gently, reading again over the front. She looked up to Stella, trying not to let the moisture that was building in her eyes give way.

"Thank you," Jenny stated softly, trying to think how many years had gone by with her birthday ignored, unacknowledged by anyone except her. A small tear spilled down her cheek despite her efforts, Jenny wiping it away quickly and heaving a big sigh. Smiling once again, Jenny indicated to the card in her hand. "It has been a long time since I received a birthday card. Thank you," she repeated.

"No problem," Stella then stepped up and pulled the young woman into a hug. Stella felt Jenny stiffen initially but after a few seconds, Jenny's grip tightened around her shoulders. "Your mom would be proud. I am," Stella stated before letting go and stepping back. Those words were bittersweet, Stella knowing the pain of not having someone to be proud of you-someone to praise you and remember your birthday. Jenny sniffed a few times and then laughed, glaring jovially at Stella.

"How did you know?" she asked questioningly. Stella smiled slyly.

"Drivers license," she replied simply, shrugging her shoulders. Jenny laughed, Stella's phone ringing then piercing the air around them. Giving her an apologetic look, Stella answered her phone quickly.

"Bonasera," she greeted, a short conversation taking place before she hung up. "Well, I have to go. Got a crime scene," she explained, putting her phone away. Giving Jenny a smile, she indicated the stable. "You have a good thing here."

"Yeah, I do," she answered. Jenny could say that for the most part she was happy with her life at present. Lifting up the card in her hand, she smiled once again. "Thanks again."

"No problem," Stella indicated over her shoulder with her thumb. "I have to go. See you later kiddo," she stated before turning and walking away.

"Bye," Jenny answered to her back, Stella throwing her hand up in a wave as she left through the door. Jenny smiled, looking down at the card in her hand again and then up to Oscar who was reaching out with his head, trying to smell the item in her hand. Jenny patted him on the neck, giving him another peppermint from her pocket.

With a final look at the card, she turned away picking up the hose and moved to fill Oscar's water bucket. "Happy birthday to me," she stated happily.


End file.
